Thoughts on religion and other important subjects : recently translated from the French of Blaise Pascal, with memoirs of his life and writings by the translator [Thomas Chevalier]

THOUGHTS

RELIGION,

OTHER IMPORTANT SUBJECTS.

Mercier and Co. Northumbtrland-court, Strand.

THOUGHTS

ON

RELIGION,

AND OTHER IMPORTANT SUBJECTS ;

RECENTLY TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH ,

fo .»'J-

1670

B1LAISE FASCAX*

MEMOIRS

OF HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS,

BY THE TRANSLATOR.

SECOND EDITION.

Hontion :

PRINTED FOR SAMUEL BAGSTER, No. SI, STRAND.
1806.

£19

' /r

CONTENTS.

PACK

LIFE OF PASCAL, by the Translator - - 7

r

CHAP. I. On Jthe Indifference of Atheists ...... 81

II. The Characters of True Religion 95

III. The True Religion proved, by the Contra-

rieties which are discoverable in Man>
and by Original Sin -----»---. 109

IV. It is not incredible that God should unite

Himself to us--.-- .......121

V. The proper Submission and Use of Reason 123
VI. Faith without reasoning .---..---- 125

VII. That there is moie Advantage in believing
than in disbelieving the Christian Reli-
gion --- - 127

VIII. Description of a Man who has wearied
himself with searching after God by Rea-
soning alone, and who is now beginning

to read the Scriptures 134

IX. The Unrighteousness and Depravity of

Man --------- 141

X. The Jews • . - 145

XI. Moses 156

XII. Figures - 159

XIII. That the Law was figurative ------- 1/61

XIV. Jesus Christ - - - 171

XV, The Evidences of Jesus Christ from the

Prophecies ----..-.*--.-.- 178

B3

6 CONTENTS.

PAGE

CHAP.XVI. Various Proofs of Jesus Christ 190

XVII. Against Mahomet - - 194-

XVIII. The Design of God in concealing himself
from some, and revealing himself to

others 197

XIX. That True Christians and True Jews have

but one and the same Religion - - - - 205
XX. That God cannot be savingly known but

through Jesus Christ .---.. 209

XXI. The surprising Contrarieties in the Nature
of Man, with regard to Truth, Happi-
ness, and various other Things ----- 215
XXII. The General Knowledge of Man - - - - 225

XXIII. The Greatness of Man --. 230

XXIV. The Vanity of Man - 234

XXV. The Weakness of Man 239

XXVI. The Misery of Man 248

XXVII. Thoughts on Miracles -- 262

XXVIII. Christian Reflections 277

XXIX. Moral Reflections 309

XXX. Thoughts on Death : extracted from a Let-
ter written by M. Pascal on the Death

of his Father ---331

XXXI. Miscellaneous Thoughts - - 347

A Prayer, imploring of God the right Use
of Sickness --....-.-..... 339

MEMOIRS

OF THE

LIFE AND WRITINGS

OF

BLAISE PASCAL.

1 O record the principal events in the lives of
those whose talents have distinguished them in.
society, has always been considered as an useful
undertaking. We naturally wish to be ac-
quainted with those who delight or instruct us,
and to whose labours we feel ourselves indebted.
Biographical memoirs, if faithfully compiled,
gratify this wish, anfl bring us, as it were, into
some degree of intimacy with those who are the
subjects of them. By following men of superior
abilities into private life, and tracing their pro-
B4

8 LIFE OF PASCAL.

gress from infancy to manhood, we seem to bring
them down more to our own level ; and to obtain
double instruction from them, while we contem-
plate the difficulties with which they have strug-
gled, the infirmities with which they have been
afflicted, and the mistakes into which they may
have occasionally fallen.

\ But we are still more interested when we be-
hold a genius of the first order, displaying early
marks of extraordinary powers, growing up with
peculiar advantages to quick maturity, devoted
to the most useful and solid purposes, struggling
with a long and painful disease, and cut off by
death while yet in his bloom. Examples of this
kind loudly proclaim to us the uncertain tenure,
and comparative vanity of human life ; while, on
the other hand, they teach us, that they who
make but a short and painful passage through
this world, may yet confer permanent benefits
on mankind, and obtain a place in the esteem
of posterity, more lasting and more honourable
than monuments of stone. ;

Such are the reflections which will naturally
suggest themselves on reviewing the life of BLAISE
PASCAL, who was born at Clermont in the Pro-
vince of Auvergne, now in%the Department of
the Puy de Domme, on the nineteenth of June
1623. He was descended from one of the best
families in that province. One of his ancestors

LIFE OF PASCAL. 9

had received a patent of nobility from Louis XI.
about the year 1478, and from that period some
of the principal offices in Auvergne were held
by persons of the family.

His grandfather was treasurer of France at
Riom, and married a daughter of the seneschal
of Auvergne, whose name was likewise Pascal.
Stephen Pascal, a son of the treasurer, and the
father of our author, was born in 1588. He
held the office of President in the Court of Aids
in Auvergne. He married Antoinette Begon,
by whom he had four children : a son, born in
1619? who died in his infancy; Blaise, the au-
thor of the following work : and two daughters,—
Gilberte, born in 1620, who was married to M.
Perier j and Jacqueline, born in 1625, who took
the veil in the Convent of Port-Royal in the
Fields.

As soon as Blaise Pascal was able to speak,
he discovered marks of extraordinary capacity,
which he evinced not only by the general perti-
nency and smartness of his replies, but particu-
larly by the questions which he asked concern-
ing the nature of things, and his reasonings upon
them, which were much superior to what is
common at his age, } His mother having died in
1626, his father, who was an excellent scholar
and an able mathematician, and who lived in
habits of intimacy with several persons of the

- 10 LIFE OF PASCAL.

/ greatest learning and science at that time in
France, determined to take upon himself the
whole charge of his son's education. Blaise,
being an only son, became, every day after the
death of his mother, more and more endeared
to his tutor ; and the proofs which he gave of
superior understanding, cherished, in no small
degree, the warmth of the father's affection.

But as the duties of a public station greatly
interfered with this design, and interrupted his
attention to the other concerns of his family,
Stephen Pascal resigned his office in favor of his
brother in 1631, and removed immediately to
Paris, where he had fewer acquaintances, and
where of course he was less liable to be inter-
rupted, in what had now become his favourite and
principal employ, by unnecessary visits, and for-
mal invitations. In Paris, likewise, the most
useful books in every branch of learning were al-
ways to be readily obtained, and he was deter-
mined his son should have every assistance that
these could afford him.

His principal maxim, in the conduct of his
son's studies, was always to let him feel himself
superior to his task : and so rigid was his obser-
vance of this rule, that he would not allow him
to commence the Latin language, till he was
twelve years of age. But in this interval he
taught him his own language grammatically,

LIFE OF PASCAL. 11

and took care frequently to explain to him the
general principles of grammar from thence. He
likewise encouraged that spirit of inquiry which
had manifested itself so early, by constantly di-
recting his attention to some of the more striking
phaenomena of nature, or the productions of art,
and discoursing with him on those subjects
which naturally interest the curiosity and ardour
of youth.

In what cases such a mode of conducting in-
struction is to be preferred, it is not necessary
here to inquire. It is sufficient to observe, that
as it cannot always be adopted, it is most likely
it would not in all cases be eligible. The capa-
city of the mind, like that of the hand, most (
commonly requires to be opened by exertion, \
that it may grasp its object with firmness. But J
in the instance before us, though the restriction
could riot hasten, it does not appear to have
essentially retarded the maturity of this won-
derful genius, which was rather stimulated than
shackled, by the limits within which it was
confined.

Before young Pascal had attained his twelfth
year, two circumstances occurred, which de-
serve to be recorded, as they discovered the
turn, and evinced the superiority of his mind.
Having remarked one day at table the sound
produced by a person accidentally striking an

12 LIFE OF PASCAL.

earthen-ware plate with a knife, and that the
vibrations were immediately stopped by putting
his hand on the plate, he became anxious to
investigate the cause of this phenomenon, and
employed himself in making a number of expe-
riments on sound, the result of which he com-
mitted to writing, so as to form a little treatise
on the subject, which was found very correct
and ingenious.

The other occurrence was his first acquisition,
or, as it might not improperly be termed, his in-
vention of Geometry.

His father, though very fond of the mathema-
tics himself, had studiously kept from him every
means of becoming acquainted with them. This
he did, partly in conformity to the maxim he
had hitherto followed, of keeping his son supe-
rior to his task ; and partly frbm an apprehen-
sion that a science so engaging, and at the same
time so abstracted, and which was on that ac-
count peculiarly suited to the turn of his son's
mind, would probably absorb too much of his
attention, and stop the progress of his other
studies, if he were once initiated into it. He
therefore as much as possible avoided convers-
ing on subjects of this nature in his presence,
and locked up from him all books which treat-
ed upon them. This however did not prevent
his son from frequently expressing a desire to

LIFE OF PASCAL. 13

learn Geometry ; and his father always promised
to teach it him, as soon as he had learned Latin
and Greek. One day, he asked his father /hat
Geometry was. His father replied, " It is a
science which teaches the method of making exact
figures, and of finding out the proportions they
bear to each other." With this answer he for-
bade him to talk or think any more upon the
subject.

But the activity of a penetrating and inrinisitive
mind is not to be so easily restrained. The de-
finition of Geometry which his father had given
him, served only to increase his earnestness to
understand the subject of it, and his mind was
continually bent on pursuing it. From that
period therefore he began, at the hours allowed
him for recreation, to get alone into a room,
and draw figures on the floor with charcoal ; try-
ing, for example, to draw a perfect circle, a
perfect square, a triangle with equal si^?s and
equal angles, and so on to other figures the re-
lations between whose lines are less obvious, Of
these he began to study the proportions; bit so
great had been his father's vigilance, that he
did not even,know the technical names of tht most
simple figures he drew ; but called a circle, un
rond ,• a line, une barre ,- and other figures by
names that were only in vulgar use.

As from respect to his father's authority, he

14 LIf E OF PASCAL.

had so far regarded his prohibition as to pursue
this study only in private, and, at his hours of
recreation, he went on for some time undisco-
vered. But one day, while he was employed in
this manner, his father accidentally entered the
room, unobserved by Pascal, who was wholly
intent on the subject of his investigation. His
father stood for some time unperceived, and ob-
served with the greatest astonishment that his
son was surrounded with geometrical figures, and
was then actually employed in finding out the
proportion of the angles formed by a triangle,
one side of which is produced ; which is the
subject of the 32d proposition in the first book
of Euclid. His father at length asked him what
he was doing. The son, surprised and con-
fused to find his father was there, told him he
wanted to find out this and that, mentioning
the different parts contained in that theorem.
His father then asked how he came to inquire
about that. He replied he had found out such
a thing, naming some more simple problem;
and thus, in reply to different questions, he
showed that he had gone on in his own investi-
gations, totally unassisted, from the most simple
definitions in Geometry to Euclid's thirty-se-
cond proposition.

It has been said, in order to lessen the im-
pression of this account, that how diligent so-*

LIFE OF PASCAL. 15

ever Pascal's father might have been to keep
his son from becoming acquainted with Geo-
metry, as he was a mathematician himself, and
was in habits of intimacy with mathematicians,
and fond of discoursing on those subjects, it is
impossible but that Pascal must have received
some ideas from what he had occasionally over-
heard, which guided him in his mathematical
pursuits. And it is further contended that Pas-
cal's drawing the figure which has been men-
tioned, must have been merely accidental, and
implied no knowledge whatever of the previous
steps by which a geometrician would proceed
to it. But the circumstances recorded by his
sister, stripped ©f all the colouring of parti-
ality, leave no room for doubt on the subject.
And indeed why should a man be presumed
incapable of such discoveries because his name
was Pascal, any more than if it were Euclid,
Archimedes, or Newton. His subsequent pro-
gress perfectly accorded with this extraordinary
elicitation of his talents.

His father was so overcome at witnessing this
display of his son's powers, that he went imme-
diately to his intimate friend Le Pailleur, to
inform him of what he had seen -, but when he
entered the house, he was unable to speak, and
sitting down, burst into tears. Le Pailleur
was alarmed, and begged to know what it was

16 LIFE OF PASCAL.

that distressed him. Pascal replied h6 did not
shed tears from sorrow, but from joy. You
know, said he, what pains I have taken to keep
my son from any knowledge of Geometry, lest
it should hinder his other studies, and what do
you think he has done ? He then related what
he had just witnessed. Le Pailleur immediately
persuaded him no longer to think of confining
a mind capable of such efforts, but, on the con-
trary, to put the best books on th€ subject into
his hands.

Pascal accordingly gave his son Euclid's Ele-
ments to peruse at his hours of recreation. He
read them, and understood them without any
assistance. His progress was so rapid that he
was soon admitted to the meetings of a society
.of which his father, Roberval, and some other
celebrated mathematicians, were members, and
from which originated the Royal Academy of
Sciences at Paris.

At these meetings mathematical propositions
were produced; both those of the members of
the society, and such as were sent them by their
correspondents in foreign countries. The solu-
tions were also examined and discussed. Young
Pascal frequently took a part in these discus-
sions, and evinced, by the acuteness and accu-
racy of his observations, so much superiority
in the science, that his seniors were not ashamed

LIFE OF PASCAL. 17

to ask his opinion, and avail themselves of his
remarks.

In the mathematics Pascal found that which
from his earliest years he had delighted in,
namely, demonstration. And therefore, though
he was now learning Latin under his father's
direction, and was only allowed to pursue Geo-
metry as his amusement, it was easy to per-
ceive that the principal exertions of his mind
were always in that pursuit. At the age of six-
teen he composed a Treatise on Conic Sections,
which was considered as a masterpiece in its
kind. In composing this treatise it was said he
had his father's assistance. This might be con-
jectured, but there is no proof of it. His fa-
ther might have corrected the language, but it
does not seem probable he composed any part
of the substance of the work. For he spoke
of it as his son's composition entirely, whereas
it was evident that, although a great part of it
was original, several things were extracted from
a book on the same subject by Desargues. It
is most likely Pascal .composed this treatise
chiefly for his own use, as a sum of what he
had learned and discovered on the subject ; and
it appears, from this circumstance, that he had
advanced beyond his father in his knowledge of
conic sections, and also that his father had not
carefully perused the work of Desargues, for he

c

IS LIFE OF PASCAL.

could not otherwise have been guilty of a mis-
representation so easy to be detected. His friends
recommended the treatise to be published, but
the author would not consent to it, and evinced
his good sense as much by this refusal, as he
had before shown his acuteness by the compo-
sition itself.

As his father persisted in his resolution to be
his tutor entirely, he did not send him to any
college, but instructed him at home in Logic,
and the principles of Natural Philosophy, as
far as they were then understood. But the
pleasure of his father in the progress he made in
all he applied to, began to be interrupted when
he had reached his eighteenth year, by some
symptoms of ill health, which were thought to
be the effect of intense application, and which
never afterward entirely quitted him; so that
he sometimes used to say, that from the time he
was eighteen he had never passed a day with-
out pain.

Private education has undoubtedly in some
instances great advantages. But it is too apt
to be rendered abortive by excessive indulgence
where application is disliked ; and to leave a mind,
which is too intent upon study, without that
wholesome variety of intercourse, which at once
enlivens the fancy, counteracts the bad influ-
ence of intense application on the health, and

LIFE OF PASCAL. 19

often opens the way to those connections in
after life, by which its cares are sweetened and
its sorrows lessened, and the sum of usefulness
and happiness is increased. The good or bad
effect, however, of either one system of edu-
cation or the other, does not depend so much
on itself, as on the disposition of the student.
In point of health, at least, it appears probable
that Pascal sustained some disadvantage, by not
enjoying a more free and lively intercourse with
young men of his own standing j and that,
though naturally endowed with wit and anima-
tion, he contracted a degree of narrowness and
austerity in his notions and habits, which he
never afterward shook off. He who associates
only with the young will never be wise, but the
rigidity of age should not continually cramp
the sinews of youth.

It appears that Stephen Pascal had laid out a
considerable part of his property in the pur-
chase of shares in the Hotel de Ville ; the in-
terest of which the government, about the year
1638, formed a resolution to diminish, as part
of a plan for curtailing the expenditure of the
state. Against this arbitrary and iniquitous
measure loud murmurs were raised by the pro-
prietors of the shares, in which a particular
friend of Pascal bore an ostensible part. The
resistance of the injured generally draws down
C 2

20 LIFE OF PASCAL.

greater injury upon them ; to which the indis-
cretions of temper often afford too plausible a
pretext. The complainant therefore incurred
the displeasure of the court, and Pascal, for
siding with his friend, was threatened with the
Bastille, and an order issued for his apprehen-
sion. But having notice of this in time, he
withdrew from the malice of his enemies, by re-
tiring privately to Auvergne, from whence the
Cardinal de Richlieu afterward recalled him.

His recalWas owing, in great measure, to the
kind interference of the Duchesse d'Aiguillon,
who took an opportunity of introducing his
daughter Jacqueline to perform a part in a
tragi-comedy, written by Scudery, which Rich-
lieu had taken a fancy to have acted before him
by girls. It was contrived, that, after the per-
formance was over, Jacqueline should recite,
in an address to the Cardinal, some lines that
were applicable to her father's situation, and
supplicating his recal. Richlieu had been in-
formed of the name and connections of this
little performer; he understood the hint, and
taking her in his arms, told her she should ob-
tain her request, and desired her to write im-
mediately to her father, and tell him to return.
The Dutchess, encouraged by the success of
her attempt, and the favorable humour of the
Cardinal, presented Blaise to him, and speak-

LIFE OF PASCAL, 21

ing in respectful terms of the father, said, See,
here is his son, who is already a great mathema-
tician, though he is not above fifteen years old.
Richlieu received him with an obliging conde-
scension, and desired that the father, with the
whole of his family, might be introduced to
him. This interview accordingly took place,
in which Richlieu promised to do something in
favor of the father, and in 1641 he was made
Intendant of Rouen. This office he filled till
the year 1648.

During Pascal's residence with his father at
Rouen, and while he was only in his nineteenth
year, he invented his famous arithmetical ma-
chine, by which all numerical calculations,
however complex, can be made, by the media*
nical operation of its different parts, without
any arithmetical skill in the person who uses it.
He obtained a patent for this invention in 1649.
In the patent it is stated that he had then made
fifty of these machines. One was sent as a pre-
sent to the Queen Regent, with a well-written
complimentary letter. The construction of this
machine was afterwards simplified by Leibnitz;
and it promised to be of very great advantage,
by preventing those errors in calculation which,
the monotony of numbers is so apt to produce,
even with the most correct arithmeticians. But,
after all, it was found too bulky and expensive
C 3

22 LIFE OF PASCAL.

for general use, and very liable to be out of re-
pair from the complexity of its structure. So
that mathematicians in general have preferred
logarithmic tables, which nearly supply the
place of such a machine, by changing the most
complicated operations of arithmetic into sim-
ple additions, or subtractions, in which a very
little attention is sufficient to avoid mistake. The
invention, however, was no less ingenious in it-
self, and was highly creditable to Pascal. But
it cost him two years of intense application,
and very much tried his tottering health : for
he not only had to arrange the construction of
the machine in his own mind, but, what was far
more difficult, and attended with continual vex-
ation, to make the workmen he employed un-
derstand him, and to see that the parts of which
. it was composed were properly made and fitted
together.

But Pascal, though unhealthy, was still Pas-
cal; ever active, ever inquiring, and satisfied
only with that for which an adequate reason
could be assigned.) Having heard of the expe-
riments instituted: by Torricelli, to find out the
cause of the rise of water in fountains and
pumps, and of the mercury in the barometer,
he was induced to repeat them, and to make
others to satisfy himself on the subject. It is
unnecessary to enter into a particular account

,

LIFE OF PASCAL. 23

6f them. The facts are now generally under-
stood, and tlie controversy to which they gave
occasion, concerning nature's abhorrence of a
vacuum, has long subsided. The experiments
of Pascal were well conducted, and satisfactory
in the result, and undoubtedly contributed to
establish the proper explication of the pheno-
mena. But perhaps while the jealousy of his
contemporaries might have undervalued their im-
portance, it may nevertheless have been over-
rated by his admirers. An account of them is
contained in a tract published in 1647, entitled
Experiments relating to a Vacuum, and in two
others, on the Equilibrium of Liquids, and on
the Weight of the Air, which were not pub-
lished till after his death. It was during the
progress of these experiments that our author
was introduced to Descartes ; and it appears
that an experiment made with the barometer,
by Pascal and Mi\ Perier, on the Puy de
Domme, was undertaken at the suggestion of
that celebrated philosopher.

About the end of the year 1647, Pascal was
attacked by a paralytic affection in both his
legs, which lasted for three months. Several
particular circumstances occurred at the same
period, which made it necessary for him to
look over some books which were written on
matters of religion ; " And it pleased God,"
c4

24 LIFE OF PASCAL.

says his sister Madame Perier, in her account
of his life, « so to enlighten his mind by the
perusal of them, that he plainly perceived
Christianity requires us to live only for God,
and to devote ourselves to no other object but
HIM ; and this appeared to him so evident, so
essential, and so superlatively profitable, that
he determined to close at once his former re-
searches, renouncing from that time all other
knowledge, to apply himself wholly to the
knowledge of that, which Jesus Christ calls
THE ONE THING NEEDFUL."

After this period, Religion was evidently his
constant study, and his principal employment.
But Horace hag truly observed, Naluram ex-
peltas furcd licet, usque recur ret. For notwith-
standing all the sincerity and strength of this
resolution, his passion for the mathematics now
and then revived. In 1654, he invented his
arithmetical triangle, for the solution of pro-
blems respecting the combinations of stakes in
unfinished games of hazard, and long after
that, as we shall presently have occasion to
notice, he wrote his demonstrations of the
problems relating to the cycloid, beside several
pieces on other subjects in the higher branches
of the mathematics, for which his genius was
probably most fitted. Many of these produc-
tions are lost, and others were not published till

LIFE OF PASCAL, 25

after his death. But these are sufficient to
evince, that had he continued to devote his
mind to this pursuit, and his life and health
had been prolonged, he would have left very
few names, among mathematicians, of equal
celebrity with his own,

Pascal's father had not omitted the important
subject of religion, in the course of instruction
he had given his son. On the contrary he had
endeavoured to impress it on his mind from his
earliest infancy, by inculcating such maxims
concerning religion as he thought most im-
portant, and often repeating them that they
might make the deeper impression./ One remark
in particular he often took occasion to make,
namely, that whatever is an object of faith, is
not an object of mere reason, much less can it
be subject to reason. ] This maxim was fixed
with such strength of conviction in the mind of
Pascal, that he never appeared in the least
shaken by the objections, or the ridicule of
the free-thinkers of his time : and it is remark-
ed by Bayle, that few persons ever distinguish-
ed more clearly than Pascal, between the laws
of reason, and those of faith. It must not,
however, be forgotten, that Pasoal was a Ca-
tholic ; and the reader will perceive, by some
passages in this volume, that he was not quite

26 LIFE OF PASCAL.

free from the superstitious credulity of the
Romish Church.

After the period we have just now been speak-
ing of, Madame Perier informs us, that the
son, in return, became the instructor of the
father, who not only heard, with attention and
delight, the exhortations of his child, but was
sensibly influenced by them; living afterward
more exactly and religiously than before, and
continuing to do so till his death.

While Pascal continued at Rouen, he went
to hear the lectures of a man who set up for a
teacher of philosophy, and who introduced
into his discourses some new opinions, which
excited the attention of the curious. From the
principles he laid down, he drew conclusions
which Pascal discovered to be erroneous, and
contrary to the decisions of the Church. One
of his deductions was, that the body of Jesus
Christ was not formed out of the blood of the
Virgin Mary, but from some distinct matter,
expressly created for that purpose only. Pascal
and several of his friends, therefore, united to
denounce this teacher to Mr. Bellay, who then
performed the episcopal duties of the diocese
of Rouen, by commission from the Archbishop.
Mr. Bellay sent for him, and interrogated him
on. the subject. But by producing a confession

LIFE OF PASCAL. 27

of faith, equivocally expressed as to the point
of which he was accused, and signing it before
Mr. Bellay, he satisfied the fetter, who dis-
missed him, seeming not very well pleased at
having been troubled with the interference of
two or three young laymen about matters of
faith. But when they had read the confession
of faith which Mr. Bellay had accepted, they
immediately discovered its deficiency, and ap-
plied to the Archbishop himself, who treated
the affair more seriously, and wrote to his de-
puty, directing him to oblige the man explicitly
to retract the opinion he had delivered, which,
Madame Perier says, he afterward did in the
Archbishop's Council, and that with apparent
sincerity, as he never manifested any degree of
rancour against his accusers. Some readers of
this anecdote may possibly smile at what they
will call the persecuting spirit of Popery ; but
perhaps the zeal of many young converts in
Protestant Churches would be found equally
light in the balance of the sanctuary.

When Pascal had recovered from the com-
plaint in his legs, he returned with his father,
and his sister Jacqueline, to Paris, where he
had the misfortune to lose his father by death,
in 1651. His sister Jacqueline took the veil
in the Convent of Port Royal in the Fields, in
1653 ; in doing which, she followed both her

1

28 LIFE OF PASCAL.

own inclination, and her brother's persuasion.
She proved a great ornament to this Convent,
of which she was afterward made Under-
Prior ess, and died very happily on the 4th of
October 1661, aged 36 years.

When his sister Jacqueline had entered the
Convent, Pascal was left almost alone ; his
eldest sister being at Clermont with her husband
Mr. Perier, who was Counsellor in the Court
of Aids for that province. Perier was a man
of considerable ability, strongly attached to
Pascal, and assisted him, as has already been
intimated, in his experiments on the pressure
of air. Pascal now gave himself up so entirely
to study, that his health became materially
impaired, and great fears were entertained
respecting his life. His Physicians found it
necessary, therefore, absolutely to forbid his
engaging in any thing which required mental
application, and to enjoin that he should take
exercise, especially in the open air, and that
he should go a little into society. With this
advice he complied, and is said at length so
far to have divested himself of his fondness for
retirement, as even to have entertained some
intentions of marriage : But a singular occur-
rence changed all his projects, and made him
again resolve to devote himself entirely for tfre
future to religious pursuits.

LIFE OF PASCAL: 29

One day, in the month of October 1654, as
he was taking his customary ride in a coach
and four, and was going over the bridge of
Neuilli, the two fore-horses took fright on a
part of the bridge where there were no side
rails, and plunged into the river. Happily, by
the suddenness of the jerk in their descent, the
traces were broke between them and the hind-
horses, so that the carriage remained behind,
lodged on the very edge of the precipice. But
although the life of Pascal was thus preserved,
the surprise and shock were so great, that he
fainted away, and was with difficulty reco-
vered. The impression remained so strong
upon his mind, that he was long afterward
harassed in his sleep with the idea of falling-
down a precipice. His health again declined ;
and he considered this event as a warning to
him to break off every idea of human alliances ;
and renewed his resolution to renounce all plea-
sure, and all superfluity, and to live for God
alone. In this determination he was confirm-
ed by the conversation of his sister Jacqueline,
for whom he had the tenderest affection, and
whom he himself had before persuaded to adopt
a life of seclusion from the world.

By living for God alone, Pascal undoubtedly
meant to live entirely employed in the study
of religion, and in the practices of devotion,
self denial, and charity: Duties common te>

30 LIFE OF PASCAL.

every Christian, in proportion to his oppor-
tunities and ability. It is not, however, in the
power of every one to pursue these duties, like
Pascal, in a state of sequestration from the law-
ful and ordinary engagements of civil society.
To live to God, is to live in obedience to the
will of God. Our relative duties to society are
a part of his will concerning us : and the de-
votee, who thinks himself at liberty to neglect
his business, his family, his neighbour, his king,
or his country, under the pretence of living
to God, is egregiously mistaken, although far
less to be censured than one who suffers
earthly considerations and projects to engross
the whole of his care, and, under the pretext
of duty to mortals like himself, disregards the
calls of the Gospel of Salvation, and turns his
back on the only source of true wisdom, hap-
piness, and blessing.

But as Pascal, though not rich, was inde-
pendent in his circumstances, and as his pecu-
liar talents, his former habits, and the state of
his health, all called for retirement, he did
well to embrace it. From this time, therefore,
he associated only with a few friends of the
same religious opinions with himself, and lived,
for the most part, in privacy. His regular
mode of living gave him some occasional inter-
vals of tolerable health, in which he composed
the works we have now to notice, and by which

LIFE OF PASCAL. 31

he will probably continue to be known to the
latest posterity.

The first of these was the Provincial Letters,
as they have been called, or Letters from a
Provincial to one of his Friends, and to the
Reverend Fathers the Jesuits. A work which
was almost universally read and admired for
many years after it was published, and which
combined at once the finest wit, the most
nervous reasoning, and the most elegant lan-
guage of any production that had at that pe-
riod ever been published in French.

It is a melancholy tfuth, that there are
but few examples of nations, calling themselves
Christian, whose history is not disgraced by
what have been termed religious dissensions.
This fact superficial historians and infidel so-
phists have endeavoured to turn to the dis-
advantage of Christianity. But on a nearer
inspection it will be found, that the contro-
versies which have been agitated, even on
points of the greatest difficulty and import-
ance, owe the fury and rancour by which they
have been disgraced, not to the genius of our
holy religion, but solely to the jarring interests,
or personal animosity, of one or both of the
parties. When men thirst for dominion, and,
above all, when they thirst for revenge, every
opposition fires and enrages them, and any

32 LIFE OF PASCAL.

thing will serve for a pretext to depreciate, or
even to destroy their opponents. Without this
explication, it would be truly astonishing to
survey the malignity and violence with which
some, apparently frivolous, disputes have been
carried on; and with which some indivi-
duals, feeble and harmless in themselves, have
been persecuted and oppressed for trifling er-
rors, or, more commonly, for their adherence to
truth.

The variances at that time subsisting in
France, between the Jesuits and Jansenists, are
a striking proof of *this observation. As the
latter opposed the tenets of the former, the
Jesuits felt them to be an hindrance to that
monopoly of fame and power to which they
themselves aspired, and they were therefore bent
upon their destruction. But they cloaked their
views under the abhorrence they pretended to
feel for the opinions of the Jansenists, and un-
der the dispute they maintained with them
concerning the action of divine grace on the
human mind, and the consistency of predes-
tination with the freedom of the will. Problems
not solvable by human penetration ; and which,
under different titles, have been, in all ages,
the torture and the stumbling-block of that
vain and fruitless curiosity, by which those
who are more intent on prying into that which

LIFE OF PASCAL. 33

is secret, than on regarding that which is re-
vealed, have involved themselves in inextricable
difficulty and error.

It would extend this narrative to too great a
length, to enter into a minute account of all
the particulars in this celebrated dispute. We
can only observe, that in general there obtained
nearly the same differences, with respect to
doctrine, between the Jesuits and Jansenists,
as between Arminians and Calvinists in Pro-
testant Churches. The Jansenists holding the
necessity of the immediate influence of what
they termed efficacious /race to the perform-
ance of every holy action, while the Jesuits
maintained the existence of a general power
given to all the faithful, which they called
sufficient grace, the actual exercise of which de-
pended only on the free-will of the agent. The
Jansenists therefore considered efficacious grace
as irresistible where it was communicated, but
contended it was not always communicated,
but was, on the contrary, on particular occa-
sions withheld, even from believers themselves ;
as in Peter 's denial of Christ. The Jesuits
held, that what they called sufficient grace,
might be resisted by the agent, so that some-
thing else was necessary in order to the accom"
plishment of its end. But it is evident, that
the Jesuits themselves were divided, even on

D

34 LIFE OF PASCAL.

these very points, and explained very differently
the terms they agreed to employ. In one
thing, however, they were perfectly united;
and that was in a determination to ruin the
Jansenists, who had exposed the dangerous
principles both in doctrine and practice, by
which the Jesuits had insinuated themselves
into power. For after all the pains that have
been taken to exculpate the Jesuits, and to set
them in a favourable light, it is most clear that
their lust of dominion was unbounded, and that,
in order to obtain it, they had introduced the
most corrupt tenets in* respect to morals, which
had at that time ever been published to the
world. Tenets under which the greatest con-
trarieties of doctrine, and the grossest incon-
sistencies of conduct, might find shelter and
defence.

Pascal himself was a Jansenist ; and the per-
sons with whom he now chiefly associated,
were the Jansenists of the Monastery of Port-
Royal ; who constituted a. Society in which
was educated the celebrated Racine, and which
has been well known in the literary world by
some excellent grammars, and several other
works that were published by the Society con-
jointly. Arnauld*, whose father had pleaded so
forcibly against the first establishment of the
Jesuits in France, Nicole, Le Maitre, Saci, and

LIFE OF PASCAL. 35

Pasquier, were among them. They were call-
ed Jansenists in consequence of their adhe-
rence to the Augustimis, a posthumous work of
Cornelius Jansen, better known by the name
of Jansenius, Bishop of Ypres, which they con-
sidered as containing the pure doctrine of the
Scripture and the Fathers, on the questions al-
luded to. This book the Jesuits laid hold of,
and selected five propositions as the substance
of its contents, of which they procured the con-
demnation, first by the Faculty of Theology at
Paris, and afterwards at Rome, by Pope Inno-
cent the Tenth.

But the Pope, in his sentence on these five
propositions, omitted to mention in what part
of Jansen's book they were to be found. The
fact was, that they were not extracted in the
words of Jansen, although they contained nearly
his sense. Arnauld therefore published a let-
ter in 1655, in which he affirmed, that he
could not find the five condemned propositions
in Jansen's book ; and then, proceeding to dis-
cuss the question respecting efficacious grace,
he added, that the fall of St. Peter afforded an
example of a just man, who had been, in that
instance, left without the assistance of that
grace, without which we can do nothing.
The former of these assertions was considered
as derogating from the infallibility of the holy
See, after the sentence which had been pro-
D 2

36 LIFE OF PASCAL.

nounced , and the latter was said to savour of
heresy. Great disturbances arose in the Sor-
bonne, of which Arnauld was a member, and
his enemies resolved on his expulsion. He com-
posed a written defence, solid and well argued,
but tedious and dry. It served him in no stead.
His adversaries were in power, and they com-
pelled the mendicant Doctors, and subordinate
Monks, to attend and vote against him at the
hearing ; and by these means the two asser-
tions were condemned by a plurality of voices,
and Arnauld was excluded for ever from the fa-
culty of Theology, by a decree of the 30th of
January, I6o6.

It was during the agitation of this affair re-
specting Arnauld, that Pascal, under the ficti-
tious name of Louis de Montalte, published the
first of the Letters of a Provincial to one of
his friends ; in which he ridicules the assem-
blies that were held on that occasion, with a
poignancy of wit and eloquence of which the
French Language had at that time furnished no
example. In this letter, and the five follow-
ing, the Provincial writes an account to his
friend of the visits he has made to various per-
sons, both among the Jansenists and the Je-
suits, in order to find out the nature of the
dispute, and the meaning of the terms that are
employed. The absurdity of several of these,

LIFE OF PASCAL. 57

the injustice of the proposed censure, the con-
formity of Arnauld's sentiments with Scripture
and the Fathers, and, above all, the duplicity
of the Jesuitical party, or rather parties who
united in their enmity against him, are ad-
mirably exposed. In the next six letters, he
lays open the false morality of the Jesuits, by
the recital of an interview with one of their
casuists, who teaches him the maxims and opi-
nions of their most approved writers, in their
own words, which he is represented as hearing
with astonishment and surprise. The remarks
he is represented to make in the course of the
conversation, and his additional observations to
his friend, contain a complete developement of
their iniquity, — with the keenest satire, — in lan-
guage at once elegant, correct, and intelligible
to every capacity.

In the last eight letters, six addressed to the
Jesuits themselves as a body, and two to the
Father Ann at, he replies to the objections
which were made to the satirical turn of the
former, defends himself from the imputations
of unfairness, and of heresy, and treats the sub-
ject not only with seriousness, but with the most
irresistible force of argument. Voltaire has
justly observed, that the finest comedies of
Moliere have not more point than the for-
mer of the Provincial Letters, nor the best

D 3

38 LIFE OF PASCAL.

discourses of Bossuet more sublimity than the
latter.

This courageous and successful exposure of
the Jesuits, who were then in the height of
their power, rendered them not only odious,
but ridiculous. They had always been hated
by their enemies, but now they became de-
spised and suspected by their friends ; and a
foundation was laid for that general contempt
and detestation into which they afterward fell,
and which a production merely serious, would
not have brought about. Ridiculum acri fortius
ac melius plerumque secat res.

The author of their disgrace, however, con-
tinued unknown, and this added to their morti-
fication. They could neither cite him before
the Pope, nor expel him from the Sorbonne.
They wrote, they preached, they raved, they
tried to laugh, to threaten, to scorn, but it was
all in vain. They had scarcely a man of
eminent talents among them at the time when
they needed one most. Their declamations
scarcely any body heard ; their answers no-
body read, while the Provincials were perused
with avidity by readers of every class. " This
masterpiece of pleasantry and eloquence," says
D'Alembert, " diverted and moved the in-
dignation of all Europe at their expense. In
vain they replied, that the greatest part of the

LIFE OF PASCAL. 39

Theologists and Monks had taught, as well as
them, the scandalous doctrine they were re-
proached with : their answers, ill written, and
full of gall, were not read, while every body
knew the Provincial Letters by heart. This
work is so much the more admirable, as Pascal,
in composing it, appears to have theologised
two things, which seemed not made for the
theology of that time, language and pleasantry.
The (French) Language was very far from
being formed, as we may judge by the greater
part of the works published at that time, and
of which it is impossible to endure the reading.
In the Provincial Letters there is not a single
word that is grown obsolete; and that book,
though written above a hundred years ago,
seems as if it had been written but yesterday.
Another attempt, no less difficult, was to make
people of wit and good folks laugh at the
questions of sufficient grace and next power,
and the decisions of the casuists ; subjects very
little favourable to pleasantry, or, which is
worse still, susceptible only of pleasantries that
are cold and uniform, and capable, at most, of
amusing only Priests and Monks. It was ne-
cessary, for avoiding this rock, to have a de-
licacy of taste so much the greater, as Pascal
lived very retired, and far removed from the
commerce of the world. He could never have
D 4

40 LIFE OF PASCAL.

distinguished, but by the superiority and de-
licacy of his understanding, the kind of plea-
santry which could alone be relished by good
judges in this dry and insipid matter. He
succeeded in it beyond all expression : several
of his bon-mots have even become proverbial
in our language; and the Provincial Letters
will be ever regarded as a model of taste and
style." — Account of the Destruction of the Jesuits
in France.

The encomiums Voltaire has bestowed on
this production, coincide with those of his
friend D'Alembert. Both of them, however,
blame Pascal for not equally ridiculing the
doctrines of the Jansenists, whom Voltaire
falsely represents as being competitors with
the Jesuits for political interest and power.
But Voltaire cared nothing for any religious
opinions : they were all to him alike unimport-
ant, and subjects only for mirth. Jesuitism and
Jansenism, Popery and Protestantism, things
sacred and things profane, were all taxed to
make sport for this prince of buffoons.

Voltaire also complains that Pascal has un-
justly ascribed to the whole Society of Jesuits,
the extravagant and wicked maxims of a few
individuals ; and that he has attributed to the
Society a design, which Voltaire affirms, no

LIFE OF PASCAL. 41

Society ever had, or ever can have ; namely,
that of corrupting mankind. But in reply to
this, it must be observed, that the extracts Pas-
cal has made from the Jesuits, in the Provin-
cial Letters, are taken from a great number
of their best and most approved writers 5 and
particularly from the twenty-four whom they
agreed to call, by way of eminence, the four
and twenty elders ; and that none of their books
were printed without the authority of the supe-
riors of their order. To corrupt mankind was
not indeed the ultimate object of the Jesuits,
but it was the way they adopted, and the only
way they could consistently have adopted, to
attain their ultimate object ; which was to ac-
quire an universal empire of influence over the
whole inhabited world : — a design that could
only be carried into execution by accommodat-
ing their principles to all descriptions of men.
For a Society, calling themselves religious, to
corrupt mankind, it is not necessary they should
endeavour to convert men from virtue to vice j
it is quite sufficient if they tolerate the vices to
which they find them already addicted. And
this the Jesuits did — purposely did ; and to do it
more effectually, they did it under the garb of
outward austerity, and sanctimonious strictness ;
oppressing the little, and, at the same time,
flattering the great : and appropriating to them-

42 LIFE OF PASCAL.

themselves,, as far as ever it was in their power,
the then important office of confessorship to the
rulers of the nations.

But although the Provincial Letters obtained
a triumph over the Jesuits, in the general
opinion of the world, they still had sufficient
influence with the Court of Rome, and the
civil power in France, to protect themselves
from any thing further ; and they had, after-
ward, an opportunity of wreaking their ven-
geance on the unfortunate Jansenists of Port-
Royal, at the nomination of that savage wolf,
the Jesuit Le Tellier, to the office of Confessor
to Louis XIV.

" This violent and inflexible man,'* who
at last closed a long life of bigotry, am-
bition, and cruelty, by signing the order for
the revocation of the Edict of Nantz, the
source of so many miseries to the Protestants
of France, and ultimately to the nation at
large, and who, while his decrepid hand
was scratching his name on that fatal pa-
per, had the insolence and blasphemy to sing
the Nunc dimittis with an air of infernal tri-
umph ; — " This violent and inflexible man,"
observes M. D'Alembert, " hated by his very
brethren, whom he governed with a rod of
iron, made the Jansenists drink, c to the very
dregs/ according to his own expression, ' of

LIFE OF PASCAL. 43

the cup of the Society's indignation.' Scarce
was he in place, but they foresaw the evils of
which he would be the cause : and Fontenelle,
the philosopher, said, on learning his nomina-
tion, The Jansenists have sinned."

" The first exploit of this ferocious and
fiery Jesuit, was the destruction of Port-Royal,
where not one stone was left upon another,
and from whence they dug up the very corpses
that were interred there. This violence, exe-
cuted with the last degree of barbarity, against
a house, respectable for the celebrated persons
who had inhabited it, and against poor nuns,
more worthy of compassion than hatred, excit-
ed clamours throughout the whole kingdom;
and the Jesuits themselves confessed, on seeing
the spectacle of their destruction, that the stones
of Port-Royal were falling on their own heads
to crush them." — Account of the Destruction of
the Jesuits in France.

So indeed it proved, and Europe has since
not only witnessed their expulsion from France,
but the final extinction of their order. An
event in which all other parties, both infidel
and Christian, found occasion to rejoice. The
Philosophers triumphed, because the Jesuits
(for justice ought to be done to the little good
they had among them) had been greatly in the
3

44 LIFE OF PASCAL.

way of their favourite project of distracting, or,
as they called it, enlightening mankind, by
the abolition of Christianity. The reformed
Churches triumphed, for many of them fondly
imagined, that when the Jesuits were destroyed,
Jesuitism would expire. But alas ! they were
mistaken. Its cursed leaven has never ceased
to be at work. For Jesuitism, which is only
the concealed scheme of a self-created Society,
for obtaining universal dominion, had not its
root merely in the fanaticism of Loyola, or
the duplicity of Escobar; in the artifice of
one man, or the influence of another, but in
the universal corruption and degeneracy of
all men. And hence, in our own days, un-
der the more plausible names of Illuminism
and Philosophy, it has again revived, and
has not only disordered France, but con-
vulsed the world : producing vices more
gigantic, and barbarities more atrocious, than
its fiercest opponents ever ascribed to it before.
But it is time to return to Pascal. His con-
troversy with the Jesuits was not confined to
the Provincial Letters. The general interest
they excited was sufficient to make the Jesuits
strain every nerve to defend themselves ; while
the degree of secular power and political in-
fluence this society retained, made it necessary,

LIFE OF PASCAL. 45

on the other hand, that their replies should be
noticed, and that the equivocations by which
they endeavoured to exculpate themselves,
should be sifted to the bottom. This was done
in some masterly papers which were addressed
to the Curates of Paris and Rouen, and which
were called Factums. In the composition of
these, Pascal is said to have taken a principal
part. The Practical Morals of the Jesuits,
published afterward by Arnauld, gave the fi-
nishing stroke to this important contest, and
stamped on the society that indelible, but well
merited odium, which prepared from afar its
destruction.

This dispute occupied Pascal upwards of two
years, and greatly interrupted him in the pro-
secution of a design he had long entertained,
to compose a defence of the Christian Religion
against the objections of Infidels; and which
his declining health rendered him afterward
unable to execute. The work, again presented
to the public in this volume, contains the
greater part of what he had written with a view
to that performance : and though it consists
only of detached thoughts which he had left
on loose papers, it has justly obtained a high
esteem in the religious world, and is the pro-
duction by which Pascal is now most generally
known.

46 LIFE OF PASCAL.

His Sister, Madame Perier, informs us, that
he first commenced the actual composition of
his intended work, from the impression made
on his mind by a miracle which she says was
performed on her daughter, who was thought
to have been suddenly cured of a Fistula La-
chrymalis, (a disease in a passage which con-
veys the tears from the inner angle of the eye
to the nose,) by having it touched with a thorn
preserved in the Convent of Port-Royal, and
which was believed to be one of the identical
thorns with which our Saviour was crowned
before his crucifixion. Madame Perier has
given a formal account of the state of her
daughter's complaint, in order to magnify the
miracle, but which in fact only shows the
mildness of the disease, and that it was then
under circumstances in which a natural and
rapid amendment was very likely to happen.
It is very probable, therefore, that the young
lady might grow better from the period this
thorn was applied, but there appears no reason
whatever for considering the event as miracu-
lous. A miracle is an extraordinary and super-
natural exertion of Omnipotence, producing
effects beyond the powers, or contrary to the
laws, of the established order of things in the
world ; and it is derogatory to the wisdom of
God to admit the performance of such an act,

LIFE OF PASCAL. 47

for any local, or trivial purpose. We have,
therefore., no instance in Scripture of any mi-
racle being performed, but such as was to an-
swer a public and important end, by openly
evincing the Divine Superintenclance in the
world, and confirm ing the authority of divine
revelation. No such purpose was, or could be
answered by a miracle in the instance in ques-
tion. The relief of an individual, or of a
body of people, may be brought about at a
time, or in a manner, totally unexpected; so
as to prove both the providential favour and
protection of God, and the ignorance and
short-sightedness of men, without that depar-
ture from the established laws and operations
of nature, to which alone the term MIRACLE
should be appropriated. The amendment of
Miss Perier, at this time, was however parti-
cularly fortunate, in three respects. First,
for the poor girl herself, who thus narrowly
escaped the barbarous and absurd treatment
used by the Surgeons of that time in her com-
plaint, and which was just going to be prac-
tised on her; Secondly, for the public, as it
gave occasion to Pascal to commit so many
excellent ideas to writing ; and, Thirdly, it
was above all fortunate for the Convent of
Port- Royal, to which this supposed miracle
gave a degree of credit and celebrity among

48 LIFE OF PASCAL.

the vulgar, which probably saved it, for that
time, from the destruction the Jesuits had me-
ditated. Indeed the Jesuits were under the ne-
cessity of trying to work miracles too, in order
to show themselves equal to the Jansenits ;
they accordingly affirmed they had cured a
poor girl of a swelled leg. But unluckily, as
Voltaire has observed, this poor girl had not
Pascal for her uncle. This miracle, therefore,
gained but little credit, and the Jesuits were
obliged to submit to the mortification of seeing
themselves outmiracled by the Jansenists ; at
least in the opinion of the mob, who are in-
dispensable workmen in the vengeance of a
faction.

But Pascal's bodily infirmities now increased ;
and, as his strength declined, he became more
reserved in his intercourse with others, and
feeling increasing impressions of the vanity of
life, and the obligation of Christians to bene-
volence, he carried his self-denial to an un-
usual degree of austerity, which will be viewed
with different sentiments by different persons.
If, however, in some particulars, he carried his
privations too far, it was from no other motive,
but his believing it to be right ; and he himself
was the only sufferer from it. He made him-
self poor, that he might administer comfort to
others, and the relief of the distressed seems

LIFE OF PASCAL. 4g

to have been his principal occupation for the
last four years of his life : A period, with re-
gard to himself, of little else but sorrow and
pain.

The first augmentation of his maladies arose
from a violent pain in his teeth, which often
deprived him of sleep. During one of his
watchful nights, a train of ideas arose in his
mind respecting the properties of the Cycloid.,
and, urging upon him, revived for a short pe-
riod, his mathematical talents in all their vi-
gour. He became insensibly so engaged in
the meditation, that at length he arrived at the
demonstration of some problems relative to this
curve, his solutions of which are universally
allowed to be among the greatest efforts of hu-
man understanding.

Though Pascal was for the time enchanted
with the beauty of these demonstrations, he
intended to bury them in oblivion ; but acci-
dentally mentioning them shortly after in con-
versation with his friend the Duke of Roannez,
the Duke entreated him to commit them to
writing ; thinking the solution of problems so
difficult, by a person of such high charactf r
for piety and theological acumen as Pascal
was now well known to possess, would tend to
vindicate the honour of religion, by clearly
demonstrating to the world at large the folly

50 LIFE OF PASCAL.

of those infidel philosophers, who had been
stupid and insolent enough, to assert, that
Christianity destroys the vigour of the intel-
lect, and unfits men for the advancement of
Science.

In order to set the merit of his friend in the
most conspicuous light, the Duke proposed
that the attention of the learned should be
again drawn to the Cycloid, (the investigation
of which had been for some time suspended,)
by making the problems Pascal had solved the
subject of a prize question, to which the ma-
thematicians of Europe should be invited to
send answers within a limited time. Pascal
at length acceded to the proposal ; for he felt
an honest consciousness that he had not closed
the volume of nature to open that of faith, either
from any abatement in the strength of his
mind, or from any cynical or superstitious con-
tempt of those phenomena in the order of things,
which are themselves the result of divine arrange-
ment.

Two prizes were accordingly proposed for
the solution of two problems. Forty pistoles
for the first, and twenty for the second. The
enunciation, of these problems was written by
Pascal, under the a.ssumed name of Amos Det-
tonville—^ whimsical anagram of Louis dc
Montalte, the name under which he had pub-

LIFE OF PASCAL. 51

lished the Provincial Letters. The decision
Was vested in a committee, among whom was
the celebrated Carcavi, to whom the answers
were to be addressed, and in whose hands the
premiums were deposited.

The questions were in part answered by Sluze,
a Canon of the Cathedral of Liege, by Huy~
gens, and by Sir Christopher Wren; but nei-
ther of these geometricians pretended to the
prize, which was contested only by two per-
sons, Lallouere, a Jesuit of Toulouse ; and
Wallis, the English mathematician. Neither
of them however resolved the problems com-
pletely, within the time that was allotted. Lal-
louere committed an error in his calculations,
and the method of Wallis was found incor-
rect, and leading to false consequences. The
persons therefore who were appointed to de-
cide on the papers presented, did not think
themselves entitled to adjudge the prizes to
either.

It has been insinuated by Voltaire, that the
prizes were withheld from sinister motives.
That it was refused to Lallouere, because he
was a Jesuit ; and to Wallis, because he was
an heretic. But this insinuation is as worthy
of Voltaire, as the imputation it implies was
unworthy of Pascal. The most celebrated
Geometricians in Paris were the judges in the

E 2

5£ LIFE OF PASCAL.

case, and it is not to be supposed they would
have tarnished their characters by such a dis-
honourable fraud. It is true, that both Lallouere
and Wallis complained; because they both
considered themselves as entitled to the prize,
ancl thought they had answered the questions
sufficiently, notwithstanding their mistakes. It
is not to be denied that their performances
had great merit ; but being in some respects
erroneous, it must be clear that the prizes
could not be properly awarded them ; especially
as the demonstrations of Pascal were free from
those errors, and were now ready to be pub-
lished ; which they accordingly were in the be-
ginning of the year 1659.

With this publication on the Cycloid, a final
termination was put to the mathematical labours
of Pascal. The few intervals of ease he en-
joyed during the three remaining years of his
life, were employed in collecting materials for
the work he had projected on the evidences of
Christianity ; the greater part of which, how-
ever, the unabated powers of a most accurate
and retentive memory prevented him from com-
mitting to writing. It is probable, his own
sufferings were augmented by his sympathy for
the monastics of Port-Royal, who continued
to be persecuted by the Jesuits with the most
unrelenting hatred. With deep regret he saw

LIFE OF PASCAL. 53

them compelled, or rather, saw them at last
consent, to sign a formulary in which the five
propositions of Jan sen were condemned, in
order to preserve their establishment from the
destruction which menaced it. Even the nuns
were forced to put their names to this paper.
Pascal contended they ought, at whatever risk,
to refuse to sign it. " You are trying,"
said he, " to save Port-Royal, but you will
" not save it, and you are in the mean time
" betraying the truth." The fulfilment of this
prediction has already been noticed ; and may
serve, among many other examples, to show
the folly of making concessions at the expense
of truth, under the pretence of keeping amity
and concord. Improper concessions strengthen
our enemies, and at the same time weaken our
friends ; for who will care to fight in defence of
a city, when its inhabitants throw down the
wall ?— The uneasiness Pascal felt on this oc-
casion was felt equally by his sister Jacqueline,
who fell ill in consequence of the distress in
which she so largely participated, and died in
a very pious frame of mind, as has already
been observed, on the 4th of October, I66i.
Pascal loved her tenderly, and, in spite of
the total indifference to all worldly objects
to which he had endeavoured to reduce hirr
self, he said, with a deep sigh, when he heard

54 LIFE OF PASCAL.

the account of her departure, " God grant us
" grace to die like her."

Pascal's entire and undisguised disapproba-
tion of the temporising conduct adopted by his
friends in the Port-Royal, produced at length
some coolness betwixt them. Of this, for it
was not attempted to be concealed, the Jesuits
took advantage, and circulated a report, after
his death, that he had retracted his former
opinions. This lie gained the more credit, on
account of M. Beurier, the ecclesiastic who
visited Pascal in his last illness, having men-
tioned, in a letter to the Archbishop of Paris,
who was an avowed disciple of Molina, that
Pascal had told him he separated from the
monastics of Port- Royal, " on account of the
" formulary." But Beurier afterward cleared
up the misrepresentation to which this ex-
pression had given some currency, and ac-
knowledged that Pascal died as complete a
Jansenist as he had ever been during his life.
His difference with his friends arose, not on
account of their hesitation to sign the for-
mulary, as the Jesuists falsely represented; but
from his total disapprobation of the formulary
itself, and of their conduct in receiving it at
all.

What may be called the last illness of this
truly great man, began in June 1662, by a

LIFE OF PASCAL. 55

violent, and almost continual pain in his
bowels. His Physicians did not consider the
attack as dangerous, on account of the total
absence of fever. But he was himself of a dif-
ferent opinion, and said, from the first, he was
sure they were mistaken, and that he should
certainly die of the disease. He was frequently
confessed, and was extremely desirous that the
sacrament should be administered to him. This
however was put off from time to time, at the
express desire of his physicians, who constantly
assured him that he soon would be well enough
to receive it in public. Nevertheless his suf-
ferings daily increased ; violent pains in the
head also came on, which 'sometimes deprived
him of his recollection. His resignation to the
will of God was uniform and constant ; so that
he was never known to utter the least complaint,
or to discover any mark of impatience.

On the seventeenth of August his pains be-
came so violent, that he desired his sister to
call a consultation of Physicians : but he ex-
pressed his wish for this with some degree of
scruple, and said he thought it was showing
too much anxiety about life. His sister how-
ever did not give him time to recal the request,
and the Physicians accordingly met. They
agreed in opinion that the symptoms were not
dangerous, and directed the treatment they
E4

56 LIFE OF PASCAL.

thought proper. But he was himself so strongly
persuaded that his end was approaching, that
he desired an ecclesiastic might stop with him
through the night. His sister also, perceiving
him materially to alter for the worse, deter-
mined he should be gratified by the reception
of the sacrament, and ordered every prepara-
tion to be made that it might be administered
to him the next morning. At midnight he was
attacked with a violent convulsion fit, which
left him, when it went off, so completely ex^
hausted, that his friends supposed he was dead.
But he recovered his senses after a while, and
Mr. Beurier the Curate coming in with the Sa^
crament, and saying, " Here is what you have
wished for so long," aroused him, so that he be*
came perfectly collected, and raised himself up
in the bed, though with some difficulty, that he
might receive it. The Curate asked him the
customary questions respecting the principal
articles of faith, to each of which he answered
distinctly, " Yes, Sir, I believe it with all my
heart." He then received both the Sacrament
and Extreme Unction with great devotion, and
was so much affected as to burst into tears.
When the benediction was pronounced, he re-
plied, " May God never forsake me." These
were the last words he was heard to speak,
except uttering a short thanksgiving, after which

LIFE OF PASCAL. 57

he was again seized with convulsions, which
never afterward quitted him ; nor had he any
further interval of sensibility; but after con-
tinuing in this state for twenty-four hours, he
breathed his last at one o'clock in the morning,
on the 19th of August, 1662, aged thirty-nine
years and three months.

His body was opened after his death. The
liver and stomach were found greatly diseased,
and his intestines were in a state of mortifica-
tion.

He was buried in the Parish Church of Saint
Etienne du Mont, and on the stone, which was
laid over his grave, was inscribed the following
Epitaph, written by Aimonius Proust de Cham-
bourg, Professor of Law in the University of
Orleans.

Nobilissimi Scutarii Blasii Pascalis Tumulus.

D. O. M.

PLASIUS PASCALIS SCUTARIUS NOBI-
LIS HICJACET.

Pietas si non moritur, sternum vivet

Vir conjugii nescius,

Religwne sanctus9 Viriute clarus,

Doctrind Celebris,

Ingenio acutus>

OF PASCAL.

Sanguine et animo pariter illustris $

Doctus, non Doctor^

JEquitatis amatory

Veritatis defensor^

Virginum ultor,

Christiana Moralis Corruptorum acerrimus hostis*

Hunc Rhetores amant facundum,

Hunc Scriptores ndrunt clegantem,

Hunc Mathematid stupentprofundum,

Hunc Philosophi qitcerunt Sapientcm^

Hunc Doctores laudant Theologum,

Hunc Pii veneranlur austerum.
Hunc omnes mirantur, omnibus ignotum^

Omnibus licet not urn.
Quid plura, Viator, quern perdidimus

PASCALEM,
Is LUDOVICUS erat MONTALTIUS.

Heu !

\

Satis dixiy urgent lachrymte,

Sileo.
Ei qui benl precaberis, beiib tibi eveniat,

Et vivo et mortuo.

Vixit. An. 39. m. 2. Obiit an. rep. Sal. 1662.
14 Kal. Sept.

LIFE OF PASCAL,

<J>£Y ! <1>EY ! IIEN00S OEON I

Cecidit Pascalis.

Heu ! Heu ! qualis Indus !

Posuit A. P. D. C. moerens Aurelian. Canonista

The Stone on which this Epitaph was in-
scribed being laid flat over the grave, which
was in one of the aisles of the Church, the
epitaph after a time became effaced. M. Perier
therefore, Pascal's brother-in-law, had the fol-
lowing inscription engraved on a slab, and af-
fixed to an adjoining pillar in the aisle.

Pro columna superiorly
Sub tumulo marmoreo,

Jacet BLASIUS PASCAL, Claromontanus, Stephani
Pascal in Supremd apud Arvernos Subsidiorum
Curia Prtfsidis flius, post aliquot annos in se-
veriori secessu et divinae legis meditatione transac-
tos, feliciter et religiosZ in pace Christi vita func-
lus anno 1662, <etatis 39, die 19 Augusti. Op-
tasset ille quidem pra paupertatis et humilitath
studio etiam his sepulchri honoribus carcrey mor~

60 LIFE OF PASCAL.

tuusque etiamnum latere, qui vivus semper latere
voluerat. Verum ejus hac in parte votis cum cederc
non posset Florinus Perier in eddem subsidiorum
Curid Consiliarius, ac Gilberts Pascal, Blasii
Pascal sororis, conjux amantissimus, hanc tabulam
posuit, qua et suam in ilium pietatem significant,
et Christianas ad Christiana precum officia sibi et
defuncto prqfutura cohortaretur.

The elegance of the former of these Epitaphs
depends so much on the turn of the Latin
Words, that it would lose all its force in a
Translation. The following is a Translation
of the latter.

Before the upper Column,

Under a marble Tomb,

Lies BLAISE PASCAL, ofClermont, the son of Ste-
phen Pascal, President of the High Court of Aids
at Auvergne, who after having spent a few years
in close retirement, and meditation on the divine
late, died happily and religiously in the peace of

LIFE OF PASCAL. (Ji

Christ^ on the 19th of August 1662, aged 39 years.
From his study of poverty and humility he wished
his grave might remain without any particular
mark, and that he might be concealed after his
death as he had always desired to be during his
life. But Florian Perier, Counsellor in the same
Court of Aids, and the affectionate husband of
Gilberte Pascal, the sister of Blaise Pascal, could
not yield to his wishes in this respect s he has there-
fore placed here this tablet, in order to signify his
own affection for him, and to exhort Christians to
the Christian duty of giving himself and the de-
ceased the benefit of their prayers.

It has already been intimated, that,— at the
time Pascal determined to abandon mere hu-
man science, and to devote him^ If entirely
to the service of God and religion,- -he resolved,
as a mean of doing this more effectually, to
renounce all pleasure, and all superfluity, and
to employ the principal part of his income in
the relief of the poor. To these resolutions he

62 LIFE OF PASCAL.

adhered during the remainder of his life, with
a degree of strictness, that has seldom, if ever,
been exceeded, even in Catholic Countries.

It appears that he was naturally fond of sea-
soned dishes, but from that period he entirely
debarred himself from them ; and would not
suffer any thing acid or stimulating, which
heightened the flavour of the food, to be mixed
in any article of his diet. The complaint in his
stomach made it necessary for him to live on
delicate meat ; but he determined this should
not become a source of any gratification. When
he was asked after a meal, whether he liked
what he had eaten, his reply always was, " I
really paid no attention to its taste." He
was as strict respecting the quantity as the
flavour of his food, and allotted himself only
as much as he thought absolutely necessary for
the preservation of his health ; nor would he
on any account ever be persuaded to exceed it.
On the other hand, he took the most nauseous
medicines without any appearance of aversion
or disgust ; and when his sister used to express
her surprise at this, he would say, " Why do you
wonder at it ? Do I not know that it is un-
pleasant before I take it ? And do I not take it
voluntarily ? Surprise or violence may produce
aversion ; but how can I pretend to dislike
what is the object of my choice ?" On one oc-

LIFE OF PASCAL. 63

cason, when he had a difficulty of swallowing
cc^ected with his disorder, his physicians or-
derefhim to take an opening medicine, com-
pose'i of very nauseous drugs, every other day
for tbee months. He could only swallow at
th£ time by tea-spoonfuls, and could take no-
thirt till it was warmed. Yet he went through
thewhole of this tedious course without any
irrejdarity or complaint ; showing unquestion-
a degree of resolution, which could only
the result of reflection and steadiness of

pind.

p His sentiments respecting outward appear-
ance and accommodation were as distant from
-he notions of men in common, as his senti-
ments respecting diet. He would therefore
have none but the plainest furniture in his
house, and had all the tapestry stripped off
from his rooms. He strongly censured persons
professing Christianity for showing any anxiety
about the architecture of their houses, the
beauty of their furniture, the elegance of their
dress, or the pomp of their entertainments.
Those, he would say, " who aspire to have every
thing about them executed in a superior style,
and are solicitous not to employ any but the
best workmen, seldom consider that they are
indulging that lust of the eye which the scrip-
ture condemns, and are cherishing a disposi-
1

(>4 LIFE OF PASCAL.

tion that has a tendency to extinguish that,
verty of spirit and contempt of the world
the gospel requires. Choose the artifice
are poor and honest, without curiously h
after that sort of excellency which is
useful nor necessary. O that my whole
were penetrated with those sentiments o po-
verty which my understanding dictates.
firmly persuaded that poverty is a
mean of promoting our salvation."
But Pascal did not assume the
of poverty in order to accumulate rich
were his restraints imposed on himself i
to afford him a pretext for withholding
from others. " I love poverty/' said he, cc \
cause Jesus Christ loved it; and I love pro-
perty, because it affords me the means of re-
lieving the distressed. " His income however
was small, and his ill-health sometimes occa-
sioned it to be barely equal to his expenses.
At such times he has borrowed of others, to
prevent the poor from being disappointed. And
when his friends blamed him for this, he used
to reply, that he had always observed, if a man
was ever so poor, he still left some property
behind him when he died. It is to be recol-
lected, however, that Pascal was a single man,
and that his income, though small, was inde-
pendent. He scorned the thought of defrauding

LIFE OF PASCAL. 65

any man ; and though, by his will, a great part
of his property was bequeathed to the neces-
sitous, he paid a proper regard to the just ex-
pectations of his sister and her children.

" His charity toward the poor had always
been remarkable/' says Madame Perier, " but
it was so much increased toward the close of
his life, that I could not please him so much by
any thing as by talking to him about them.
In the last four years, he exhorted me earnestly
to devote myself to their service, and to em-
ploy my children in it likewise. When I re-
plied, that I thought it would lead me from
proper attention to my family, he would say, I
only naade that objection from want of inclina-
tion ; that there were different degrees of this
virtue, and that it might be so practised as not
to injure our domestic concerns ; — that the
practice of it was the general duty of all Chris-
tians, and that no particular mark was wanted
to make us know whether we were called to it
or not, since it is that by which Jesus Christ has
declared he will judge the world. He used also
to remark, that visiting the poor was of the
greatest utility, by giving us continual oppor-
tunities of seeing the distresses they endure;
and that when we witnessed how often, even
under the pressure of disease, they were in want
of the most necessary things, we must be verv

F

66 LIFE OF PASCAL.

hard-hearted not to be willing to deprive our-
selves of what is useless and superfluous, in or-
der to relieve them.

" This sort of conversation used sometimes
to lead us to consider of adopting some general
plan for the supply of the necessitous of every
description. But this he did hot approve; and
would say that we are not called to this duty in
a general, but in a particular manner ; and that,
in his opinion, the manner of serving the poor,
which was most acceptable to God, was to serve
them individually, as we could ; each one ac-
cording to his own ability, and according to
their peculiar circumstances, without forming
great schemes, which he thought had too much
in them of that parade which he always con-
demned. Not that he objected to the estab-
lishment of general hospitals. On the contrary,
he had a great regard for them, as he evidenced
by his will. But he said such great enterprises
were fit only for certain persons of talents and
fortune, whom God raised up for that purpose,
and led on to it, as it were, visibly. But that
this was not the general duty of every one,
like the constant assistance of the poor indivi
dually.71

One particular instance of his benevolence
deserves to be inserted in this place. About
three months before his death, as he was return-

LIFE OF PASCAL. 6?

ing from mass, a beautiful girl, about fifteen
years of age, came to him to beg alms, plead-
ing, that her father was dead, that her mother
and herself had just come up, in want, from the
country to Paris ; that her mother had that
morning been taken ill, arid was carried to the
Hotel-Dieu. He was strongly impressed with
the danger of prostitution to which the poverty
and beauty of the poor girl exposed her, and he
therefore immediately bade her follow him, and
conducted her to a neighbouring seminary,
where he gave charge of her to a respectable
ecclesiastic, giving him at the same time some
money, and desiring that he would see her
placed where she might have such instruction
as would fit her for a place of decent servitude.
He afterwards sent a woman to purchase suit-
able clothing for her ; but gave her a strict
charge not to mention his name to the eccle-
siastic, and to take no notice of the affair to
any one : nor did she, till after his death.

Hts notions respecting the common manifes-
tations of affection and endearment between re-
latives, appear to have been carried to an ex-
treme. He sometimes even censured Madame
Perier for her kind attentions to himself: And
she says she used to complain of this to her sis-
ter Jacqueline, thinking it was a mark of want
of regard for her. But her sister assured her she

()8 LIFE OF PASCAL.

was mistaken in ascribing it to such a cause ;
and she adds, that he afterward fully proved this
on an occasion, when she stood in need of his
assistance, which he gave her with such earnest-
ness, and such evident marks of tender affection,
that it was impossible for her to doubt it any
longer. His prevailing idea was, that the heart
is only for God, and that to devote it in any
degree to creatures, is to deprive him of that
right of which he is most jealous. Hence he
often blamed his sister for her fond caresses of
her children, and endeavoured himself con-
stantly to cultivate a manifest indifference to-
ward his nearest friends and relations, which it
may be more safe to applaud in him, than to
recommend to the imitation of others.

He was remarkably, and more justly, scru-
pulous with regard to common conversation,
in which levity and jesting were particularly
disgusting to his mind, and the least indelicate
allusion highly offended him. He often ex-
pressed thankfulness to God, that his bad state
of health, and the consequent necessity of liv-
ing comparatively retired, had so much con-
tributed to preserve him from the temptations
of youth ; and from those vain amusements
and pleasures to which health and intercourse
with the world would have continually exposed
him, and which are so inimical to that commu-

LIFE OF PASCAL. 69

nion with God, which ought to be the grand
object of a Christian's pursuit.

Pascal has been accused of vanity ; and it
appears that he himself thought this his princi-
pal snare. In order to check the emotions of
a passion to which he felt himself subject, he
wore round his body a cincture of iron, set with
sharp points, which he used to strike with his
elbow or hand when he was conscious of those
feelings of pride which he so strongly con-
demned.

Whatever may be thought of this, and of
other austerities which he practised on himself,
when those just views of human depravity, and
of the vanity of life are considered, which a man
possessed of Pascal's penetration and piety must
naturally entertain in a state of declining health,
and under the prejudices of a Roman Catholic
education, they will at least claim our indul-
gence, if not our commendation. Perhaps even,
many who feel disposed to ridicule or to blame
them would do well to consider, whether if the
sentiments which the gospel inspires and incul-
cates on these important points were more pre-
dominant in their minds, it would not at least
abate their own thirst for worldly grandeur,
and damp their ardour for sensual gratifica-
tions. A contrite papist, whom superstitious
prejudice has wounded with an aculeated gir-

70 LIFE OF PASCAL.

die, or encumbered with a ponderous fetter,
though laughed at and derided by the world,
may be more acceptable in the sight of the Dis-
cerner of hearts, than the wild reformer who
treats him with disdain, and makes his own li-
berty the cloak for his folly.

It must also be observed, that Pascal did not
imagine his religion was to consist merely in
outward observances ; nor did he ascribe to
his own virtue or merit, the changes he had
experienced in his disposition. Far from it.
On a paper found after his death was the fol-
lowing memorandum. " I preserve my fide-
lity toward all men. I do not render evil to
those who injure me ; but I wish them a condi-
tion like my own, in which one receives nei-
ther good nor evil from the greater part of
mankind. I endeavour to be always upright,
sincere, and faithful to all with whom I have to
do. I feel a tenderness of heart for those to
whom God has more closely united me; and
whether I am alone, or in the sight of others,
in all my actions I have an eye to God who is
to judge them, and to whom I have devoted
them. Such are my present feelings; and every
day of my life I bless my Redeemer who has
produced them in me, and who of a man full of
weakness, misery, concupiscence, pride and am-
bition, has made a man exempt from the domi-

LIFE OF PASCAL. 71

nion of these evils by the power of his grace,
to which alone it is due, having nothing in my-
self but misery and horror."

With all these sentiments it cannot appear
snprising that Pascal should be exact in the
observance both of public and private devotion.
That part of The Sacred Office which is called
Les Petites Heures, and which chiefly consists of
the sections of the 11 9th Psalm, was his con-
stant manual. As he was a Catholic, he
must be expected to have written and act-
ed like a Catholic. He paid great respect to
the relics preserved by the Romish Church;
and his reason for so doing may be collected
from the observation in page 339 of this vo-
lume.

Another discriminating feature in his charac-
ter must not be forgotten : namely his loyalty
to the King. Pascal was no anarchist. He
had too much sense to pluck the jewels out of
a monarch's crown, and scatter them among a
mob ; nor would he ever have helped to de-
throne his lawful Sovereign, in order to set up
a traitor. During some insurrections which
occurred while he resided in Paris, he took a
distinguished part in opposition to the faction
with which they originated ; and said, that
sooner than join with persons who promoted re-
bellion, he would go but as a common assassin,
F4

^2 LIFE OF PASCAL.

or a robber on the highway. He saw through
the cobweb pretexts under which the disaffected
and the disappointed cloak their endeavours to
overturn an established order of things ; and tho-
roughly understood all the pick-lock machi-
nery with which they go to work. A remark
found on one of his papers, and which is in-
serted in the last paragragh of page 242, dis-
closes one of the grand secrets of the revolution
manufactory.

But while Pascal was irreconcileable to re-
bels against his King, he indulged no resent-
ment against injuries to himself. And though
Voltaire has accused him of malignity in his
attack on the Jesuits, none who understand
that attack can think his censures too severe,
or the occasion too trivial on which they were
published. The Provincial Letters were a de-
fence of Christianity against its pretended
friends ; and the work he intended to have com-
posed, if his life had been spared, would have
been a defence of it against its open, but perhaps
less dangerous enemies.

Of this work he once gave an outline in con-
versation with his friends, who requested he would
tell them his plan. He detailed it without any
preparation in an extempore discourse, which
lasted between two and three hours, charming
them with the connected series of argument it
3

LIFE OF PASCAL. 73

contained, and the eloquence and animation
with which it was delivered.

That he did not live to complete his design,
has been often esteemed a matter of regret, and
indeed in some respects it may justly so be con-
sidered. But in our regret on this head, we can
only lament our own disappointment. The
cause he meant to defend, remains on a firm
and immoveable rock, against which the gates
of hell shall never prevail.

A small part only of his materials for this
work was committed to writing; and that on
loose papers, the contents of which, after his
death, were arranged and copied by his execu-
tors, who published them, with some other de-
tached pieces that he had left, under the title of
The Thoughts of Mr. Pascal on Religion., and
various other Subjects.

This publication met with general acceptance
among the religious world ; and has received,
as it deserved, the highest encomiums. Per-
haps no human composition, however, is en-
titled to unqualified praise. We are not there-
fore to expect that The Thoughts of Pascal will
be found in every particular correct and unex-
ceptionable. But as they were not finished by
himself for the press, and as some of them were
probably never intended for publication, they
are scarcely fair objects for the rigour of criti-

74 LIFE OF PASCAL.

cism, especially as far as relates to composition
and style. Nevertheless, notwithstanding ail
their defects, the general excellence, beauty, and
originality with which they abound, will always
make them interesting to a sober and judicious
reader.

It was for this very reason that Voltaire thought
he should hardly do enough to undermine the
influence of Christianity in the world, if he
suffered so popular a book as The Thoughts of
Pascal to be circulated only in their original state.
He therefore undertook to corrupt them in a
way, which exhibits one of the most singular
specimens of literary artifice that has ever been
imposed upon the world.

The artifice alluded to was that of publishing
an edition of the Thoughts of Pascal, with
Notes by Voltaire himself. In this edition he
differently arranged, or rather disarranged the
Thoughts themselves, so as to destroy much of
their beauty and force. Some new passages
were inserted, taken from manuscripts of Pascal
to which he had access; and in the introduc-
tion of which he has taken care to blend some
abominable things of his own invention, for the
purpose of making Pascal appear as great an
hypocrite as himself. Added to this, he has
also introduced into the body of the work, and
under the running title of " Pascal's Thoughts/'

LIFE OF PASCAL. 75

a discourse intended to bring the immortality
of the soul into question. The Phraseology of
many of Pascal's Thoughts is also changed ;
and the notes are added here and there, in or-
der to make some passages appear laughable,
others weak, and others absurd. Nothing can
be more clear than that Voltaire's design in this
publication was of the most abandoned kind ;
and that it was sent abroad on purpose to disse-
minate his own pernicious and abominable senti-
ments, with the greater success, among the read-
ers of Pascal, who would not have been so likely
to see them in any other way ; and in order at
the same time to weaken the energy of Pascal's
observations, by exhibiting them in an uncon-
nected and mutilated form.

He has also attacked them in other of his
writings. Where he has expressed himself most
seriously on the subject, he says, " It is my
opinion, that Mr. Pascal's design, in general,
was to exhibit mankind in an odious li^ht.

o

He strenuously endeavours to represent us all
as wicked and unhappy. He writes against
human nature in pretty near the same manner
as he wrote against the Jesuits. I shall take
the part of human nature against this sublime !
misanthropist. Had he prosecuted the work,
the plan of which appears in his Thoughts, he
would have written a work full of eloquent

76 LIFE OF PASCAL. ,

false reasonings, and falsities admirably well
deduced.'* He then adds, " I am even of opi-
nion, that all the books which have been lately
written to prove the Christian Religion, will be
so many stumbling-blocks, instead of edifying
their readers. Do these authors pretend to
know more of these things than Christ and his
Apostles ? This is like surrounding an oak
with reeds in order to support it. We may
root up these reeds without prejudicing the
oak."

This passage discovers the cloven foot of its
author, whose only object in rooting up the
reeds was to prejudice the oak. A work in de-
fence of Christianity, consisting of sententious
observations, at once forcible in argument, and
popular in style, like the Thoughts of Pascal,
was perhaps more directly calculated to serve
as an antidote to the writings of Voltaire, than
any that could have been published expressly
against them. For Voltaire's perpetual endea-
vour was to assail Christianity, not with any
regular system of argument, for of that he was
incapable, but by short jokes, and low ridicule,
which might make it an object first of sport,
and afterward of contempt. The step therefore
which he took to discredit the Thoughts of Pacal,
is equally a mark of his own malice against the
truth, and of the merit of a work, the good effect

LIFE OF PASCAL. 77

of which he thought it necessary to counteract
by such insidious means.

It is scarcely worth while to detain the rea-
der any longer by making quotations from Vol-
taire's notes, of the obervations in which., those
few which are just are obvious, and those that
are unjust are useless. To repeat them would
only be to give them greater currency.
They have been more than sufficiently answer-
ed by the Abbe Gauchat, and several other
writers.

The Thoughts of Pascal have been already
translated into most, if not all the European
languages. Among the rest they were trans-
lated into English, first by Mr. Walker, and af-
ward by Dr. Kennett. Both these translations
are now out of print, and the work being still
much inquired after, it has been thought neces-
sary to republish it.

But neither Mr. Walker's nor Dr. Kennett's
Translation is presented to the public in this vo-
lume. For the former, though very literal, is de-
fective and obscure ; and the latter, though more
polished, is too diffuse, and not sufficiently close
to the original. Indeed it may with truth be ob-
served, that tnere is not a single page of Dr.
Kennett's Translation, in which the genuine
language and style of Pascal can be found.
The style of Pascal is close and aphoristic, but

78 LIFE OF PASCAL.

yet animated and striking : Dr. Kennett's
translation is turgid, pompous, and full of bom-
bast. To give only one specimen — At the
close of Section XXI. Pascal says, " What a
Chimsera then is man ! What a novelty ! What
a Chaos ! What a subject of contradiction ! A
judge of every thing, and yet a feeble worm of
the earth ! The depositary of truth ; and yet a
mere heap of uncertainty ! The glory and the
outcast of the universe ! If he boasts, I humble
him. If he humbles himself, 1 boast of him;
and always contradict him, till he is brought
to comprehend that he is an incomprehensible
monster.'* This passage Dr. Kennett amplifies
into the following paragraph. " What a chi-
masra then is man ! What a surprising novelty !
What a confused Chaos ! What a subject of
contradiction ! A professed Judge of all things,
and yet a feeble worm of the earth ! The great
depositary and guardian of truth, and yet a
mere huddle of uncertainty. The glory and the
scandal of the universe ! If he is too aspiring
and lofty, zue can lower and humble him ; if too
mean and little, we can raise and swell him.
To conclude, we can bait him with repugnancies
and contradictions, till at last he apprehends him-
self to be a monster even beyond apprehension"
• — Circumlocutions equally absurd in themselves,
and equally distant from the original, may be
found in almost every page.

1IFE OF PASCAL. 79

A new translation has therefore been thought
necessary, and is now submitted to the judg-
ment of the public. To communicate the sen-
timents of Pascal in his own style, has been the
principal object for which it was undertaken :
How far this object has been attained, it does
not become the translator to determine : Fie
can only say, that those who are able are wel-
come to do better, for envy of this kind he has
none.

March I, 1803.

THOUGHTS

ON

RELIGION,

AttD

OTHER IMPORTANT SUBJECTS.

I.

ON THE INDIFFERENCE OF ATHEISTS.

XT were to be wished, that the enemies of
Religion would at least learn what it is, before
they oppose it. Did Religion make its boast
of having a clear and perfect view of GOD, and
of beholding him without covering or veil, it
might be justly objected, that we see nothing
in this world that makes him known with that
kind of evidence. But since Religion, on the
contrary, declares men to be in a state of dark-
ness, and of estrangement from GOD; since it
affirms him to have withdrawn himself from their
discovery, and to have chosen, in his word, the

G

82 INDIFFERENCE

the appellation of a God that hideth himself; and
lastly, since it is equally employed in establish-*
ing these two maxims, that GOD has left, in his
Church, certain characters of himself, by which
lie will make himself known to those who sin-
cerely seek him; and yet that he has, at the
same time, so far shaded and obscured these
character?, as to render them imperceptible to
those who do not seek him with their whole
heart, what advantage is it to men who profess
themselves negligent in the search of Truth, to
complain so frequently, that nothing reveals and
displays it to them ? For this very obscurity un-
der which, they labour, and which they object
against the Church, does itself evince one of the
two grand paints which the Church maintains,
without affecting the other, and is so far from
overthrowing its doctrines, that it manifestly con-
firms and supports them.

In order to give any weight to their objec-
tions, they ought to urge, that they have ex-
erted their utmost endeavours, and have used
all the means of information which the Church
recommends, without obtaining satisfaction. If
they could say this, they would indeed attack
Religion in one of its pretensions : but I hope to
show, in the following papers, that no rea-
sonable person can speak after this manner; and
I dare assert, that none ever did. We know
very well, how men act under this indifference

OF ATHEISTS. 83

of temper: they suppose themselves to have
made mighty efforts toward the instruction of
their minds, when they have spent some hours
in reading the Scriptures, and have asked some
questions of a clergyman concerning the Articles
of Faith. When this is done, they declare to all
the world, that they have consulted books and
men without success. But I cannot refrain from
telling such men, (what I have often told them*)
that their negligence is insufferable. It is not a
foreign or a petty interest which is in dispute:
ourselves, and our all are at stake.

The immortality of the soul is a thing which
so deeply, so infinitely concerns us, that we must
y have utterly lost all feeling, to be cold and in-
different about it. All our actions and thoughts
must take so very different a course, according
as eternal blessings may, or may not be ex-
pected, that it is impossible for us to proceed
with judgment and discretion, except we keep
this point, which ought ever to be our ultimate
object, continually in view.

Thus our highest interest, and our principal
duty, is to get light into a subject on which our
whole conduct depends. And, therefore, in the
number of wavering and unsatisfied men, I make
the greatest difference imaginable between those
who do their utmost to obtain instruction, and

84 INDIFFERENCE

those who live without ever thinking or troubling;
themselves about it.

I cannot but feel compassion for those whe
sincerely grieve at being in this doubtful state of
mind; who look upon it as the greatest of mis-
fortunes, and who spare no pains to be delivered
from it, by making these researches their chief
and most serious employ. But as for those who
pass away their life without reflecting on its
iinal issue, and who, merely because they do not
find in themselves sufficient evidence to convince
them, neglect to seek it elsewhere, and to ex-
amine to the bottom, whether the opinions pro-
posed be such as men are wont to entertain
through credulous simplicity, or such as, though
obscure in themselves^ are yet built on solid and
immoveable foundations, I consider them in a
very different light. This carelessness about an
affair in which themselves, their eternity, their
all, is concerned, rather provokes my resentment
than engages my pity. Nay, it strikes me with
wonder and astonishment; it is a monster to my
apprehension. I speak not this from the pious
zeal of a rapturous devotion: on the contrary, I
affirm, that the love of ourselves, the interest of
mankind, and the most simple glimmerings of
reason, do naturally inspire us with these senti-
ments; and that to know this, we need only see
What persons of the meanest capacities under-
stand,

OF ATHEISTS. 85

It requires no great superiority of mind to
discover, that nothing in this world is productive
of true and solid satisfaction; that all our plea-
sures are merely vanity, that our troubles are
innumerable, and that, after all, death, which
threatens us every moment, must, in a few years,
perhaps in a few days, put us into an eternal
state of Happiness, or Misery, or Annihilation.
Between us and Heaven, or Hell, or Annihila-
tion, there is nothing interposed but life, the
most brittle thing in all the world; now as the
happiness of heaven is certainly not designed
for those who doubt whether their souls be im-
mortal, such persons have nothing to expect
but the miserable chance of annihilation, or
hell.

Nothing can be more true, and nothing more
terrible than this. Let us brave it as we will, in
this must end the most splendid life that is spent
upon earth.

It is in vain for men to turn aside their
thoughts from this eternity which awaits them,
as if they were able to destroy it by neglecting
to think of it: it subsists in spite of them, it is
hastening on, and death, which is to draw the
curtain from it, will, in a short time, infallibly
reduce them to the dreadful necessity of being
for ever annihilated, or for ever miserable.

We have here a doubt of the most awful con-
sequence, and to be the subject of it is indispu-

G 3

86 INDIFFERENCE

tably a most serious misfortune : but, at the same
time, it is an indispensable duty not to remain
under it, without inquiring diligently to be deli-
vered from it,

He, then, who doubts, and yet seeks not to be
resolved, is equally unhappy and unjust: but if
withal he is easy and contented, if he freely
avows his indifference, and, above all, if he takes
a pride in professing it, and makes this most de-
plorable condition the subject of his vanity and
pleasure, I have not words to fix a name on so
extravagant a creature.

Whence can a man derive such sentiments?
What pleasure can there be in expecting nothing
but misery without resource ? What cause is
there for vanity in finding one's self in impene-
trable darkness ? Or what consolation in despair-
ing for ever of a comforter ?

To be at ease in such ignorance, is a thing
so monstrous, that they who live in it ought to.
be aroused to a sense of its stupidity and extra-
vagance, by having their inward reflections laid
open before them, that they may be confounded
at the prospect of their own folly. For thus it
is that men reason, who thus obstinately remain
ignorant of what they are, without seeking for
information :

" I know not who has sent me into the world ;
nor what the world is, nor what I am myself.
I am shockingly ignorant of all things. I know

OF ATHEISTS. 8?

not what my body is, what my senses are, or
what my soul is. This very part of me which
thinks what I speak, which reflects upon itself,
and upon every thing around me, is yet as igno-
rant of itself as it is of every thing else. I behold
these frightful spaces of the universe with which
I am encompassed, and feel myself confined to
one little corner of the vast extent, without un-
derstanding why I am placed in this part of it
rather than in any other; or why the short period
of time that is allotted me to live, was assigned
to me at this particular point, rather than any
other, of the whole eternity which was before
me, or of that which is to come after me, I see
nothing but infinities on all sides, which swallow
me up like an atom, or like a shadow, which
endures but a single instant, and is never to re^
turn. All that I know is, that I must shortly
die; but what I am most ignorant of is this very
death, from which I cannot escape,

" As I know not whence I came, so I know
not whither J am going; only this I know, that
at my departure out of the world, I must either
be for ever annihilated, or fall into the hands of
an incensed GOD, without being able to decide
which of these two conditions will be my ever^
lasting portion.

" Such is my state, so full of weakness, ob-
scurity, and wretchedness. And from all this

G 4

88 INDIFFERENCE

I conclude, that I ought to pass all the days
of my life, without ever considering what is
hereafter to befal me; and that I have nothing
to do, but to follow my inclinations without
reflection or disquiet, doing all that, which, if
what is said of a miserable eternity be true,
will infallibly plunge me into it. It is possible
I might find some light to clear up rny doubts;
but I will not take the trouble to stir one foot
in search of it; and despising all those who do
take pains in this inquiry, I am resolved to go,
On, without fear or foresight, and try the grand
event; I will pass as easily as I can out of life,
and die utterly uncertain about the eternal state
of my future existence."

It is an honor to Religion that it has such
unreasonable men for its professed enemies; and
their opposition is of so little importance to it,
that, on the contrary, it serves to confirm the
principal truths which it teaches. For the grand
object of Christianity is to establish these two
principles, the depravity of human nature, and
redemption by Jesus Christ. Now these op-
posers, if they are of no use in demonstrating
the truth of redemption, by the sanctity of their
lives, are yet highly serviceable in showing the
corruption of nature by their unnatural senti-
ments.

OF ATHEISTS. 89

Nothing is so important to any man as his,
own state; nothing so serious to him as eternity.
If, therefore, we find persons indifferent to the
loss of their being, and to the danger of everlast-
ing misery, their temper is highly unnatural.
They are quite different men in all other things ;
they fear the smallest inconveniencies ; they see
them as they approach, and feel them when
they arrive; and the same man who passes days
and nights in rage and despair for the loss of a
place, or for some imaginary affront to his ho-
nor, is the very same mortal who knows that
he must soon lose every thing by death, and yet
remains without disquiet, concern, or emotion.
This strange insensibility with respect to things
the most awful in their consequences, in a heart
so acutely sensible to the meanest trifles, is a
prodigy, an unintelligible enchantment, a super
natural infatuation.

A man confined in a dungeon, who does not
know but the order for his execution is given,
who has but a single hour to inform himself con-
cerning it, and that one hour sufficient, in case it
have passed, to obtain its revocation, would act
contrary to nature, should he make use of this
hour not to procure the necessary information,
but to play and divert himself; yet such is the
condition of the persons we are describing; only
with this difference, that the evils with which

90 INDIFFERENCE

they are threatened, are infinitely greater than
the mere loss of life, and the transient punish-
ment which the prisoner would have to fear.
Yet they run thoughtlessly upon the precipice,
casting a veil over their eyes, to keep themselves
from discerning it, and making mock of those
who warn them of their danger.

Thus not only the zeal of those who do seek
GOD, demonstrates the truth of Religion, but
likewise the blindness of those who do not seek
him, and who pass their days in this horrible
neglect. There must have been a strange revo-
lution in the nature of man, to be able to live in
such a state, much more to applaud and value
himself upon it. For supposing it to be abso-
lutely certain, that there is nothing but an-
nihilation to fear after death, would not this
rather be a cause for dejection, than for pride?
And is it not the highest pitch of extravagance,
if we have no certainty of this, to glory because
we are in doubt?

And yet, after all, it is too evident that man
has so far declined from his original nature, that
there is in his heart a secret delight in all this.
Nay this brutal ease between the fear either of
hell or of annihilation, carries somewhat so
tempting in it, that not only do those who un-

OF ATHEISTS. 91

happily are sceptically inclined, make a boast
of it, but even those who are not, think it some-
thing brave to pretend to be so. For experience
shows us, that most of those who pretend to in-
fidelity are of this latter kind, mere counterfeits
and hypocrites in atheism. They are persons
who have heard it said, that the genteel manners
of the world consist in thus acting the bravo.
This is what they term throwing off the yoke, and
which the greater number of them profess to
do, merely in imitation of others.

But if they have the least portion of common
sense, it will not be difficult to make them per-
ceive, how miserably they deceive themselves, by
seeking in this way for applause and esteem.
For this is not the method to gain credit, even
with worldly men, who are able to judge rightly
on things, and who know that the only method
of succeeding, is to appear honest, faithful, pru-
dent, and capable of advancing the interest of
our friends ; for men naturally love nothing but
that which some way contributes to their benefit.
But what benefit can we derive from hearing a
man confess that he has shaken off the yoke of
Religion ; that he does not believe there is a God
who watches over his actions ; that he considers
himself as absolute master of his own conduct,
and accountable for it only to himself? Does he
think we shall be induced from hence to repose

92 INDIFFERENCE

a greater degree of confidence in him; and to
look to him for comfort, advice, or assistance, in
the difficulties of life ? Can he imagine we are
greatly delighted when he tells us, that he doubts
whether our souls be any thing better than a
little wind or smoke; especially if he tells it us
with an air of assurance and satisfaction? Is such
a thing to be spoken of with pleasantry? or
should it not rather be uttered with sadness,
as the most melancholy reflection that can be
mentioned.

If they would but think seriously on the sub-
ject, they must perceive this conduct to be so
very ill chosen, so contrary to good manners, and
so remote even from that gentility to which they
pretend, that nothing can more effectually ex-
pose them to the contempt and aversion of man-
kind, or mark them out as persons defective in
understanding and judgment. And, indeed,
should we require of them an account of their
sentiments, and of the reasons for which they
call Religion in question, what they have to offer
would appear so weak and contemptible, that it
would rather confirm us in our belief. This is
what a person once told them with great pro-
priety, If you continue (said he) to talk at
this rate, you will infallibly make me a
Christian. And he was in the right: for who

OF ATHEISTS. 93

would not tremble to find himself entangled in
the same opinions, with associates so truly con-
temptible ?

Those therefore who only counterfeit these
principles, are extremely unhappy in putting
a constraint on their natural disposition, in order
to render themselves the most impertinent of all
mankind. If they are heartily and sincerely
concerned at their want of information, let them
not dissemble it. A confession of this can never
be shameful ; for there is really no shame, but in
being shameless. Nothing betrays so much
weakness of understanding, as not to perceive
the misery of man without God. Nothing is a
surer token of extreme baseness of spirit, than
not to wish for the reality of eternal pro-
mises. No man is so truly a coward, as he that
acts the brave against heaven. Let them there-
fore leave these impieties to those who are born
with a judgment so unhappy, as to be capable
of entertaining them in earnest. If they cannot
be Christian Men, let them be Men of Honor :
and let them at least acknowledge, that there are
but two sorts of persons who deserve to be ac-
counted reasonable ; either those who serve God
with all their heart, because they know him ; or
those who seek him with all their heart, because \
as yet they know him not.

94 INDIFFERENCE

To those persons then who sincerely inquire
after God, and who, being sensible of their mi-
sery, truly desire to be rescued from it, it is just
to contribute our labour and service, to assist
them in finding out that light of which they feel
the want.

B|ut as for those who live without either know-
ing God, or endeavouring to know him, they
look on themselves as so little deserving their
own care, that they cannot but be unworthy the
care of others : and it requires all the charity of
the religion they despise, not to despise them to
such a degree, as to abandon them to their own
folly. But since the same religion obliges us to
consider them, while they remain in this life, as
still capable of God's enlightening Grace; and
to believe it possible, that, in a very short time^
they may be filled with a greater degree of faith
than ourselves ; and that we, on the other hand*
may fall into their blindness ; we ought to do
for them, what we desire should be done to us
in their case ; to entreat them that they would
take pity on themselves, and, at least, advance a
step or two, and try if they can discover the
light. To this end let them employ, in the pe-
rusal of this work, a few of those hours which
they spend so unprofitably in other pursuits.
It is possible they may gain somewhat by the
reading; at least, they cannot be great losers.

OF ATHEISTS. 95

But if any shall apply themselves to it, with
perfect sincerity, and with an unfeigned desire
of knowing the truth, I hope they will meet
with satisfaction, and be convinced by those
proofs of our divine Religion, which they will
here find collected together.

II.

THE CHARACTERS OF TRUE RELIGION.

1 RUE Religion will always distinguish itself
by obliging men to love God. This is what
natural justice requires, and yet what no Reli-
gion but the Christian has ever enjoined.

It ought likewise to know the concupiscence
of man, and his utter insufficiency for the attain-
ment of virtue by his own strength. It should
likewise point out the proper remedies for this
defect; of which prayer is the chief. Our Re-
ligion has done all this, and no other has ever
taught us to beg of God the power to love and
obey him.

To establish the truth of a religion, it is ne-
cessary that it should be acquainted with hu-

96 CHARACTERS OF

man nature. For our true nature and true hap-
piness, true virtue and true religion, are things,
the knowledge of which is inseparable. It should
also be able to discern the greatness and the
meanness of man; together with the reason of
both. What religion, the Christian only excepted,
has ever made all these known ?

Other religions, as those of the heathens, are
more popular, for they consist only in external
appearance; but then they are not adapted to
men of talents and understanding. A religion
purely intellectual, might be fitter for men of
genius, but would by no means be suited to the
common ranks of mankind. Christianity alone
is proportioned to all ; for it consists both of that
which is internal, and of that which is external.
It raises the most ignorant to inward and spiri-
tual acts, and brings down the most intelligent to
outward performances, and is never complete
but when it joins one of these effects to the
other. For it is both necessary that the common
people should understand the spirit of the letter,
and that the learned should submit their spirit to
the letter, by the performance of outward ac-
tions.

That we are in ourselves hateful, reason alone
will convince us ; and yet there is no Religion
but the Christian which teaches us to hate our:

TRUE RELIGION. 97

selves; wherefore no other Religion can be en-
tertained by those who know themselves to be
worthy of nothing but hatred.

No Religion, except the Christian, has un-
derstood that man is the most excellent of visible
creatures, and, at the same time, the most mi-
serable. Some, perceiving the reality of his
excellence, have censured, as mean and ungrate-
ful, the low opinion which men naturally enter-
tain of themselves. Others, well knowing the
unhappy effects of his baseness and misery, have
treated with the greatest ridicule those senti-
ments of grandeur, which are no less natural to
men.

Our Religion alone has taught that man is
born in sin: no sect of philosophers ever said
this; therefore none of them ever declared the
truth.

God being concealed from us, every Religion
which does not teach that he is so, is false ; and
every Religion which does not show the reason
why he is so, must be barren and unedifying:
our Religion has done both.

That Religion which consists in believing, that
man has fallen from a state of glory and com-
munication with God, to a state of sorrow,
humiliation, and estrangement from God; but
that he should be at length restored by a Mes-

H

98 CHARACTERS OF

siah who was to come, has always been in the
world. All things have passed away — but this,
for which all other things exist, has remained.
For God, having designed to form to himself a
holy people, whom he would separate from all
other nations, deliver from their enemies, and
settle in a place of rest, was pleased expressly
to promise, not only that he would do this, but
that he would come himself into the world for
that purpose ; and foretold, by his prophets, the
very time and mariner of his coming. In the
mean while, to confirm the hope of his elect
through all ages, he gave them continual types
and figures, and never left them without as-
surances both of his power and his inclination
to save them. For immediately after the crea-
tion of man, Adam was the witness of these,
being made depositary of the promise concern-
ing a Saviour to be born of the seed of the
woman; and though men, so near the
time of their first creation, could not have
forgotten their creation, and their fall, or the
promise which God had given them of a Re-
deemer; yet since they suffered themselves to
be carried away into all sorts of corruptions
and disorders, God was pleased to raise up holy
men, as Enoch, JLamech, and others, who pa-
tiently waited for that Messiah who was pro-
mised from the commencement of the world.
After this, when the wickedness of men was

TRUE RELIGION. 99

arrived at its highest pitch, God sent Noah,
whom he saved, when all the rest of the world
was drowned, by a miracle which testified at
once the power of God to save the world, and
his determination to do so, by raising up to the
woman the seed which he had promised. This
miraculous interposition, was sufficient to esta-
blish the hopes of mankind, and the memory
of it was still fresh in their minds ; when God
renewed his promises to Abraham, who dwelt in
the midst of idolaters, and revealed to him the
mystery of the Messiah that was to come. In
the days of Isaac and Jacob, iniquity had spread
itself over the whole earth; yet these holy pa-
triarchs lived in faith, and the latter of them, as
he blest his children when he was dying, cried
out, with a degree of transport which interrupted
his discourse, I have waited for thy salvation,
O Lord.

The Egyptians were polluted with idolatry and
magic; and the people of God were led away
by their example; yet Moses, with other excel-
lent persons, saw him who was invisible, and
adored him, looking forward to those eternal
blessings wliich he was preparing for them.

The Greeks and Romans afterwards spread the
worship of fictitious deities : The Poets invented
different systems of Theology : Philosophers were
divided into a thousand different sects; yet there
were always in Judea, men chosen to prophesy

100 CHARACTERS OF

of the coming of the Messiah, who was unknown
to every other nation.

At length, in the fulness of time, he came;
and ever since his appearance, notwithstanding
all the schisms and heresies which have arisen,
all the kingdoms which have been destroyed,
and the numerous changes which have taken
place in all things, this same church, that wor-
ships him who has ever been adored, still subsists
without interruption. And — what is astonishing,
unparalleled, and altogether divine — this Reli-
gion which has always endured, has been always
opposed. A thousand times has it been, appa-
rently, on the very brink of total destruction ; and
as often as it has been so, so often has it been
rescued by some extraordinary interposition of
Almighty Power. And it is still further asto-
nishing, that it should always have been able to
stand, without, in any degree, yielding to the will
of its oppressors.

States must infallibly perish, if they did not
often permit their laws to give way to necessity :
but religion has never done this, and yet has
stood its ground. But either such accommoda-
tions, or miracles, are indispensable. It is no
wonder that governments should preserve them-
selves, by yielding to circumstances; and yet it
is in some degree improper, to call this preserv-
ing themselves, and hence we see that they have

TRUE RELIGION. 101

all, at length, been utterly destroyed, nor has any
one of them lasted so long as fifteen hundred
years. But that this religion should have always
continued unchanged and inflexible, this is truly
divine.

Truth would be too much obscured, if it were
destitute of visible appearances ; of which this is
a very wonderful one, — that it should have been
always perpetuated in a Church, or visible as-
sembly. Its lustre, on the other hand, would be
too great, if this church were altogether undivided
in opinion: But in order to find out which
opinion is true, we have only to examine what
has always been held by it : for it is certain that
what is true, has never ceased to have a place in
it ; while nothing that is false, has been always
maintained.

Thus has faith in the Messiah been perpetu-
ally maintained. The tradition concerning him
was handed down regularly from Adam to Noah
and Moses. After these, the prophets predicted
his coming ; at the same time foretelling other
things, which were from time to time fulfilled in
the eyes of the world ; and which demonstrated
the truth of their mission, and consequently of
their promises concerning Him. They unani-
mously declared, that the law given to them was
but preparatory to that of the Messiah; that, till

H3

102 CHARACTERS OF

he came it should subsist, but that the latter
should endure for ever; and that by this means,
either the law of Moses, or that of the Messiah,
of which it was a promise, should always con-
tinue upon earth ; and in fact, it has always con-
tinued. Jesus Christ came under all the circum-
stances they had predicted. He wrought mira-
cles, as did also his Apostles, who converted the
gentile world: and the prophecies being thereby
fulfilled, the Messiah is for ever demonstrated.

I see many contrary religions, all of which
must be false but one. Each of them claims
credit upon its own authority, and deals out its
threatenings against all who disbelieve it. I do
not therefore take them at their word. For they
can all do alike in this respect, just as every man
can call himself a prophet. But, in Christianity,
I see the accomplishment of prophecies, and
an infinite number of miracles, attested beyond
all reasonable doubt, and these I find in no other
religion.

The only religion which is contrary to our na-
ture, in its present state ; which opposes our plea-
sures, and which at first sight appears contrary
to common sense, is that which has subsisted
from the beginning.

The whole arrangement of things ought to
turn on the establishment and grandeur of reli-

TRUE RELIGION. 103

gion: Men should feel within them sentiments
agreeable to what it teaches; and in a word, it
ought to be so much the object and centre, to
which all things tend; that whosoever under-
stands the principles of it, may be enabled to
give an account, both of human nature in parti-
cular, and of the whole state and order of the
world in general.

It is upon this very foundation that profane
men take occasion to blaspheme the Christian
Religion — because they misunderstand it. They
imagine, that it consits purely in the adoration of
the Divinity, as a great, powerful, and eternal
Being. This is properly Deism; and stands,
almost, as far removed from Christianity as
Atheism, which is directly opposite to it. Yet
hence they infer the falsehood of this religion;
because, say they, if it were true, God would
have manifested himself to mankind by such in-
disputable proofs, that it would have been im-
possible for any man to mistake them.

But let them conclude what they will against
Deism ; they will be able to draw no such con-
clusion against Christianity ; which acknowledges
that, since the fall, God does not manifest him-
self to mankind with all the evidence that he
could do. Christianity peculiarly consists in the
mystery of a Redeemer ; who by uniting in him-
self the divine and human natures, has delivered
H 4

104 CHARACTERS OF

men from the corruption of sin, to reconcile them
to God in his divine person.

It therefore instructs men in these two im-
portant truths, that there is a God whom they
are capable of knowing and enjoying ; and
that there is that corruption in their nature,
which renders them unworthy of this bless-
ing. It is of equal importance, to know
both the one and the other of these points. It
is equally dangerous for man, to know God with-
out the knowledge of his own misery ; and to
know his own misery without the knowledge of a
Redeemer, who can deliver him from it. For
one ^without the other, begets either the pride of
Philosophers, who knew God, but not their own
misery; or, the despair of Atheists, who know their
own misery, but know nothing of a Redeemer.

And thus as it is equally necessary to man to
possess a knowledge of each of these principles ;
so is it to be ascribed alone to the mercy of God,
that he has "been pleased to teach them to us.
And this is the office of Christianity, and that in
which its peculiar essence consists.

Let men examine the economy of the world
on this principle ; and they will see, whether all
things do not tend to establish these two funda-
mental truths of our religion.

If any one knows not himself to be full of

TRUE RELIGION. 105

pride, ambition, concupiscence, weakness, mi-
sery, and unrighteousness, he is blind. And if,
knowing this, he has no desire for deliverance,
what can be thought of so irrational a man?
How then can we do otherwise than esteem a
religion which so well understands the defects of
mankind? Or do otherwise than wish that reli-
gion may be true, which provides such suitable
remedies against them ?

It is impossible to take a view of all the
proofs of Christianity together, without feeling
their force ; which is such, as no reasonable man
can resist.

Consider its establishment. That a Religion
so opposite to nature, should have established
itself by means so gentle, on the one hand, as to
use no force or constraint; and so powerful on the
other, that no torments could deter its martyrs
from confessing it : and not only was this effected
without the assistance of any earthly prince,
but in spite of all the princes who conspired to
oppose it.

Consider the holiness, the dignity, and the
humility, of a truly Christian soul. The heathen
philosophers, sometimes, raised themselves above
the rest of mankind,* by a more regular mode of
life, and by doctrines, in some degree, conformable
to those of Christianity : but they never consi-

106 CHARACTERS OF

dered, what Christians call humility, as a virtue 5
they even thought it incompatible with the vir-
tues they professed. Nothing but Christianity
knew how to unite, what till then had appeared so
inconsistent ; or to teach men, that so far from
humility being incompatible with other virtues,
without it,all other virtues are nothing more than
vices and defects.

Consider the infinite wonders displayed in the
holy scriptures; the grandeur, and more than
human sublimity of the things they contain,
and the admirable simplicity of their style ; in
which there is nothing forced or affected, and
which bears a stamp of truth that nothing can
disprove.

Consider Jesus Christ himself. Whatever
opinion we entertain of him, it is impossible to
deny that he had a most elevated and superior
mind, which he evinced at a very early age, be-
fore the Doctors of the Law ; yet, instead of cul-
tivating his talents by study and the society of
the learned, he passed thirty years of his life in
manual labour, and in entire obscurity; and
during the three years of his public ministry, he
took into his company, and chose for his apostles,
men without science, without study, without re-
pute : while his enemies were men who passed for
the most learned and wise of their time. A

TRUE RELIGION. 10?

strange mode of proceeding for a man who in-
tended to establish a new religion.

Consider, also, the persons who were chosen
by Jesus Christ as his Apostles: men without
learning or study, who found themselves at once
made able to confute the most skilful Philoso-
phers ; and strong enough to withstand -all the mo-
narchs and tyrants ; who set themselves in oppo-
sition to the Christian Religion which they
preached.

Consider that miraculous succession of pro-
phets ; who followed one another for two thousand
years, and who all foretold, in different ways,
even the minutest circumstances relating to the
life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ ; the
mission of his Apostles ; the promulgation of the
Gospel ; the conversion of the Gentiles ; and
many other things concerning the establishment
of Christianity \ and the abolition of Judaism.

Consider the wonderful accomplishment of those
prophecies which apply so exactly to the person
of Jesus Christ, that it is impossible not to recog-
nize him without being wilfully blind.

Consider the state of the Jewish nation both
before and since the coming of Jesus Christ; its
flourishing state before his coming, and its most
miserable condition since their rejection of him;
|br to this day they continue without any cha-

108 CHARACTERS OF TRUE RELIGION.

racter of their religion ; without a temple, with-
out sacrifices, dispersed all over the earth, the
scorn and derision of every nation.

Consider the perpetuity of Christianity ; which
has always subsisted from the beginning of the
world, either among the saints under the Old
Testament, who lived in expectation of Christ
Jesus to come; or among those who have re-
ceived him, and believed on him, since he ac-
tually did come. No other religion has this
mark of perpetuity, which is the principal cha-
racter of the true.

Lastly, consider the holiness of this religion;
its doctrines, which explain even the greatest
contrarieties in man ; and all the other uncom-
mon, supernatural, and divine things, which
beam forth from every part of it : and let any one
judge, after all this, if it be possible to doubt, that
Christianity is the only true Religion, and if there
ever was any other that could bear a comparison
with it.

109

sift tffou

III.

THE TRUE RELIGION PROVED BY THE CON-
TRARIETIES WHICH ARE DISCOVERABLE IN

MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN.

JL HE greatness and the misery of man are
both so conspicuous, that the true religion must
necessarily teach, that he contains in himself
some noble principle of Greatness, and, at the
same time, some profound source of Misery.
For true religion will search our nature to the
bottom, so as perfectly to understand all that is
great, and all that is miserable in it, together with
the reason both of one and the other. It must
also account for those astonishing contrarieties
which we find within us. If there be but one
principle, or efficient cause of all things, and
but one end of all things; true religion must
teach us to make him alone the object of Our
worship and love. But since we find ourselves
unable to worship him whom we know not, and
to love any thing but ourselves ; the same religion,
which enjoins these duties, must also acquaint us
with this inability, and teach us how it is to be
overcome.

1 10 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES

Again, in order to render man happy, it ought
to teach us that there is a God, whom we are
under obligation to love ; that our true felicity
consists in being devoted to him, and our only
misery, in being separated from him. It ought
to show us that we are full of darkness, which
prevents us from knowing and loving him; arid
that thus our duty obliging us to love God, and
our concupiscence turning us from him, we are
full of unrighteousness. It ought to discover to
us the cause of our opposition to God, and our
own happiness; the remedies against it, and the
means of obtaining them. Let men consider
all the religions in the world, with regard to
these points, and see whether any one, ex-
cept Christianity, can give satisfaction concern-
ing them.

Shall it be the doctrine of those philosophers,
who set before us no other good than what we
may find in ourselves? Is this the sovereign
good? Have these men discovered the remedy
of our evils ? Is the proper cure, for man's pre-
sumption, to equal him with God ? And those
who have levelled us with the beasts, and offer
us earthly gratifications, as our only felicity, have
they revealed the remedy for our lusts ? f Lift up
c your eyes to God/ say some; 'behold Him who
' has stamped you with his image, and has made
* you for his worship. You may make your-
' selves like him; Wisdom, if you follow her di-

IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. Ill

* rections, will equal you to him.' While others
cry out, ' Cast down your eyes to the ground,
e base worms as you are, and look at the beasts,
' your companions.'

What then is to be the fate of man ! must he
be equal to God, or to the beasts ? How fright-
ful a disparity is this ? What then are we to be ?
What religion shall instruct us at once to correct
our pride and our concupiscence ? What religion
shall disclose to us our happiness, and our duty;
the infirmities which lead us from them, the
cure for those infirmities, and the means of obtain-
ing it ? Let us hear the answer of the wisdom of
God, as it speaks to us in the Christian religion.

It is in vain, O Men ! to seek from yourselves
the remedy for your miseries. All your know-
ledge can reach no further than this — that you
can neither find happiness nor truth in your-
selves. Philosophers have promised them to
you, but they promised what they could not
perform. They knew neither your real con-
dition, nor your real good. How could they
point out the remedy for your diseases, who
did not even know what they were ? Your great-
est evils are pride, which alienates you from
God; and concupiscence, which attaches you to
earth; and all they did was to cherish either one
or the other. If they likened you to God,
it was only to gratify your pride, by making
you think that your nature resembled the divine:

RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES

and as for those who saw the extragavance of
such pretensions, they only led you to a contrary
precipice ; by tempting you to believe that your
nature was like that of the beasts, that you might
be led to place all your happiness in the sensual
delights of irrational creatures ! This was not
the way to convince you of your transgressions.
Do not therefore expect truth or consolation from
men : I am HE that has formed you, and alone
can teach you what you are. You are not now
in the state in which I created you. I made
man holy, innocent, and perfect: I filled him
with light and understanding: I made known to
him my wonders and my glory. The eye of
man then saw the majesty of God. He was not in
this darkness which blinds him, or under this
mortality, and these miseries, which distress him.
But he could not enjoy that glory long without
falling into presumption: he wanted to make
himself the centre of his happiness, independent
of my aid. He withdrew himself from my do-
minion, and as he pretended to an equality with
me, from a desire to find his happiness in him-
self, I abandoned him to himself; and causing
the creatures that were his subjects, to revolt
against him, I made them his enemies. Man is
therefore now become like unto the beasts, and
removed so far from me, that he scarcely retains
any feeble glimmer of the Author of his being,
so much has all his knowledge been either lost

IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. 1 13

or confused. His senses now, being not the ser-
vants, but often the masters of his reason, have
led him away in the pursuit of pleasure: all the
creatures with which he is surrounded, either
tempt or afflict him, and exercise a kind of so-
vereignty over him; either subduing him by
their strength, or seducing him by their charms,
which is the most imperious and fatal dominion
of the two.

Such is the present state and condition of
men! Still a feeble instinct remains of the
felicity of their primitive nature; while they
are plunged in the miseries of their own blind-
ness and lust, which is now their second
nature.

From the principles which I have here laid
open, we may discern the cause of all those
contrarieties, which have astonished and divided
mankind.

Observe all those emotions of greatness and
glory, which the sense of so many miseries is not
able to extinguish ; and consider, whether they
can proceed from a less powerful cause than ori-
ginal nature.

Know then, proud mortal ! what a paradox
thou art to thyself. Let thy weak reason be

I

114 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES

humbled; let thy frail nature be silent. Know
that man infinitely surpasseth man, and learn
from thy master thy real condition, to which
thou art thyself a stranger.

For, in a word, had man never fallen into
corruption, he would have continued stedfast
in the enjoyment of truth and happiness; and
had he never been any other than corrupt, he
would have possessed no idea either of truth or
happiness. But so great is our misery, (greater
than if there had never been any thing noble in
our condition,) that we retain an idea of happi-
ness, though we are unable to attain it ; we feel
some faint notion of truth, while we possess no-
thing but falsehood; incapable both of absolute
ignorance, and of certain knowledge. So manifest
is it, that we have once been in a state of perfec-
tion, from which we are now unhappily fallen.

What then does this avidity on the one hand,
and this impotence on the other, teach us, but
that man was originally possessed of a real
bliss, of which nothing now remains but the
footsteps and empty traces, which he vainly
endeavours to fill up with that which surrounds
him; seeking in things absent, the relief which
he does not obtain from such as are present,
and which neither the present nor the absent

IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. 115

can bestow upon him 3 because this infinite gulph
is only to be filled by an infinite and immutable
object?

It is nevertheless astonishing that, of all
mysteries, that which seems to be furthest from
our apprehension, I mean the transmission of
original sin, should yet be that, without which
we must remain utter strangers to ourselves.
For undoubtedly nothing appears more offensive
to our Reason, than to hear that the transgression
of the first man attaches guilt on those, who
being so vastly distant from its fountain, seem
incapable of being involved in it. This com-
munication is looked upon by us, not only as im-
possible, but even as very unjust. For what can
be more repugnant to our miserable rules of
justice, than eternally to condemn an infant who
is incapable of exercising his will, for an offence
in which he appears to have had so little a part,
that it was committed six thousand years before
he was in existence? Certainly nothing seems to
us more harsh than such a doctrine. And, yet,
without admitting this incomprehensible mys-
tery, we are utterly incomprehensible to our-
selves. The knot of our present condition, has
all its turns interwoven in this abyss : insomuch*
that man is more incomprehensible without this
mystery, than the mystery itself is incomprehen-
sible to man.

I 2

116 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES

Original Sin is foolishness to men. We allow
it to be so. We ought not therefore to reproach
reason for not having this knowledge ; because it
is not pretended that reason can fathom it. But
this foolishness is wiser than all the wisdom of
men; (the foolishness of God is wiser than man,
1 Cor. i. 25) : For, without this, what could we
say of man ? His whole state depends on this
imperceptible point. Yet how should he be
made acquainted with this by his reason, when
it is a thing above his reason ; and when reason,
instead of discovering it to him at first, disin-
clines him to believe it when it is presented be-
fore him?

These two opposite states, of innocence and
corruption, being once laid open before us, it is
impossible we should not recognise them.

Let us trace our own emotions, and observe
ourselves; and let us see, whether we do not
discover the lively characters of these different
natures.

How surprising it is, that so many contra-
dictions should be found in one and the same
subject!

This two-fold nature of man is so visible, that
some have imagined him to have two souls : one
single subject appearing to them, incapable of
such great and sudden transitions, from unmea-
surable presumption to the most dreadful abject-
ness of spirit.

IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN. 11?

Thus, the several contrarieties which would
seem most calculated to alienate men from the
knowledge of any religion, are those very things
which would rather conduct them to the true.

As to myself, I confess, that as soon as ever
the Christian religion has revealed to me this one
principle, that human nature is depraved, and
fallen from God, this opens my eyes to see every
where the proofs of that fact. For nature is now
in that state, that every thing, both in us and out
of us, bespeaks our loss of God.

Without this divine information, what could
men have done, but either become vain from
the remaining sense of their former grandeur,
or dejected by the consciousness of their present
infirmity ? For, not discerning the whole truth,
it was impossible for them to arrive at perfect
virtue: some looking upon nature as uncor-
rupt, and others, as irrecoverable, they could not
but fall into vanity or sloth, the two great sources
of every vice. They could only, either give them*
selves up to vice, through meanness of spirit, or
escape from it, through pride. For those who
knew the excellency of man, were unacquainted
with his corruption ; so that while they escaped,
perhaps, from indolence, they were lost in con-
ceit : and those who were sensible of the infirmity
of nature, were strangers to its dignity ; so that
while they were delivered from vanity, they
plunged themselves into despair.

I 3

118 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES

Hence arose the various sects of the Stoics and
Epicureans, the Dogmatists, Academics, &c. The
Christian religion alone has been able thoroughly
to cure these opposite vices 5 not driving out
one by means of the other, according to the
wisdom of this world; but expelling them, both,
by the simplicity of the gospel, For while it
exalts the righteous, even to a participation of
the divinity, it makes them understand, that,
in this superior state, they have still within them
the fountain of all corruption, which renders
them, their whole life long, subject to error, to
misery, to death, and to sin ; and it assures the
most impious, that they still may partake of the
grace of their Redeemer. Thus awing those
whom it justifies, and comforting those whom it
condemns, it so wisely tempers hope with fear,
by this two-fold capability both of sin and of
grace, which is common to all mankind, that it
abases us infinitely more than unassisted reason
could do, and yet without driving us to despair;
while it exalts us infinitely more than the pride
of our nature can do, and yet without rendering
us vain; thereby demonstrating, that being alone
exempt from error and vice, it belongs only to
itself to instruct men, and at the same to reform
them.

We have no idea either of the glorious state
of Adam, or of the nature of his transgression, or

IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN, 119

of the mode in which it is transmitted to us.
These are things which took place in a state* of
nature very different to ours : they transcend
our present capacity, and the knowledge of
them would be of no use to deliver us from our
miseries. All that is of importance, for us to
know, is this, that through Adam we are miser-
able, depraved, and at a distance from God;
but that we are redeemed by Jesus Christ; and
of this we have astonishing proofs in this
world.

Christianity is most surprising. It obliges man
to acknowledge that he is vile, and even abomi-
nable, ,and yet enjoins him to aspire after a re-
semblance of God. Were not things thus set
against one another, this exaltation would render
him extravagantly vain, or such a debasement
would render him horribly abject: For misery
leads to despair, and a sense of dignity inclines
to presumption.

The Incarnation discovers to man the greatness
of his misery, by the greatness of the remedy that
was needed for his relief.

In the Christian religion we find neither a
state of abasement that renders us incapable of
good, nor a state of holiness that exempts us from
evil.

14

120 RELIGION PROVED BY CONTRARIETIES

No doctrine can be more suited to man, than
this, whicli makes him acquainted with his two-
fold capacity of receiving and falling from grace,
on account of the two-fold danger to which he is
always exposed, either of despair on the one
hand, or of pride on the other.

Philosophers never inspired men with senti-
ments proportioned to both these conditions.
They either inculcated notions of unqualified
dignity, which is not the true condition of man ;
or else of unqualified meanness, which is as little
so as the former. We ought to feel a sense of
our meanness, not as a character of our original
nature, but the effect of repentance j not such as
should lead us to continue in that meanness, but
such as should make us aspire to greatness. We
ought also to have a sense of our dignity, but of
that which proceeds from grace, and not from
merit, and which begins by humiliation,

No man is so happy as a real Christian; none
so rational, so virtuous, so amiable. How
little vanity does he feel when he believes him-
self united to God ! How far is he from abject-
ness when he ranks himself with the worms of
the earth !

Who then can refuse to believe or adore this
heavenly light? For is it not clearer than the
day, that we see and feel within ourselves inde-
lible characters of excellence? And is it not

IN MAN, AND BY ORIGINAL SIN.

equally true, that we experience every hour the
effects of our present deplorable condition?
What else, therefore, does this chaos y this
monstrous confusion in our nature proclaim,
but the truth of this double state, and that with a
voice so powerful, that it cannot be gainsaid.

IV.

IT IS NOT INCREDIBLE, THAT GOD SHOULD
UNITE HIMSELF TO US.

-1 HAT which renders men so reluctant to
believe themselves capable of being united to
God, is nothing else than a consciousness of
their own degradation : yet, if this be sincere,
let them pursue it as far as I have done ; and
let them confess, that our baseness is in reality
such, as makes us unable, of ourselves, to dis-
cover whether his mercy can render us capable
of an union with him or not. For I would
gladly be informed, whence this creature, that
acknowledges itself so weak, has obtained a
right to limit the mercy of God, and to set such
bounds to it as his fancy may suggest. Man
knows so little of the divine essence, that he
does not even know what he himself is ; and
yet, all confused as he is at the prospect of his
own condition, he takes upon him to say, that

GOD'S UNION WITH MAN CREDIBLE.

God cannot render him capable of communica*
tion with himself. But I would ask, whether
God requires any thing of him except that he
should know him, and love him ; and why it is
he believes God cannot make himself to be both
known and loved by him, seeing he is naturally
capable both of knowledge and love. For no
man can know otherwise than that he exists,
and that there is something he loves. If, then,
he sees any thing in his present state of dark-
ness ; and finds something on earth which en-
gages his affection ; why, if God should be
pleased to impart some rays of his essence,
should he be incapable of knowing and loving
his divine Benefactor, according as he shall be
pleased to reveal himself to him? There is,
therefore, without doubt, an intolerable pre-
sumption in such reasonings as these, though
founded on an apparent humility. But our hu-
mility can neither be rational, nor sincere, un-
less it makes us confess, that not knowing of
ourselves what we are, we cannot learn it of any
but God.

123

V.

THE PROPER SUBMISSION AND USE OF
REASON.

JL HE furthest stretch of reason is, to know
that there is an infinite number of things which
utterly surpass it ; and it must be very feeble
indeed, if it reach not so far as to know this.

It is fit we should know, how to doubt where
we ought ; to be .confident where we ought ;
and to submit where we ought. He who is
deficient in these respects, does not yet under-
stand the powers of reason. Yet there are
men who err against each of these principles :
either, considering every thing as demonstra-
tive, because they are unacquainted with the
nature of demonstration ; or, doubting of every
thing, because they know not where they
ought to submit ; or, submitting to every thing,
because they know not where they ought to
judge.

If we bring down all things to reason, our
religion will have nothing in it mysterious or
supernatural. If we violate the principles of
reason, our religion will be absurd and ridicu-
lous,

124 SUBMISSION AND USE OF REASON.

Reason, says St. Austin) would never submit >
if it did not judge that, on some occasions, sub-
mission is its duty. It is but just therefore, that
it should submit where it sees it ought to submit ;
and that it should not submit, where it judges
upon good grounds it ought not to do it ; but
great care must be taken that we do not deceive
ourselves.

Piety is different from superstition. To carry
our piety to superstition is to destroy it. Here-
tical men reproach us with superstitious sub-
mission; and we should be guilty of the charge,
if we required men to submit in things, which
are not the proper matters for submission.

Nothing is so agreeable to reason, as dis-
claiming of reason in matters of faith : and no-
thing is so repugnant to reason, as the disuse
of reason in things that are not matters of faith :
the extremes are equally dangerous, whether
we wholly exclude reason, or admit nothing but
reason.

Faith says many things, concerning which
the senses are silent \ but nothing, which the
senses deny : it is always above them, but never
contrary to them,

VI.

FAITH WITHOUT REASONING.

JLF I had but seen a miracle, say some men,
1 should be converted ? They would not talk
in this manner, if they knew what conversion
really meant. They imagine, there is nothing
in it but merely to acknowledge there is a God;
and that to worship him, consists only in utter-
ing certain verbal addresses, but little different
from those which the heathens made to their
idols. True conversion consists in deep abase-
ment of ourselves, before that sovereign Being
whom we have so often provoked, and who
every moment might justly destroy us ; in ac-
knowledging that we can do nothing without
his aid, and that we have merited nothing of
him but his displeasure. It consists in know-
ing that there is such an invincible opposition
between God and ourselves, that without a
Mediator, there could not be any communion
between us.

Think it not strange, that illiterate persons
should believe without reasoning. God gives
them the love of his righteousness, and an
hatred of themselves. He inclines their hearts
to believe. No man ever believes with a true

126 FAITH

%
and saving faith, unless God inclines his heart :

and no man, when God does incline his heart,
can refrain from believing. This David well
%knew when he prayed, ^Incline my heart, O God,
unto thy testimonies. Ps. cxix. 36.

If some men believe without having examined
the proofs of religion, it is because there is pro-
duced in them a disposition truly holy; and
because what they hear affirmed of our religion
is perfectly agreeable to that disposition. They
are sensible, that Gocl is their Maker ; they are
resolved to love none but him, and to hate none
but themselves ; they feel that they are without
strength, that they are incapable of going to
God, and that, unless he is pleased to come to
them, they cannot have any communion with
him 5 and they hear our religion declare, that
we are to love God alone, and hate only our-
selves ; and that, whereas we are altogether cor-
rupt, and incapable of coming to God, God be-
came man, that he might unite himself to us.
There needs no more than this to convince men
who possess such a disposition of heart, and such
knowledge of their duty and of their own inca-
pacity to perform it.

Those whom we see become Christians, with-
out the knowledge of prophecies, or other such
evidences, form as sound a judgment of their
religion, as those who have that knowledge.
They judge of it by the heart, as others judge

WITHOUT REASONING. 127

by the understanding. God himself inclines
them to believe, and by this means they are most
effectually persuaded.

I confess, that a Christian who believes with-
out- argumentative proof, is not always quali-
fied to convince an infidel, who has a great
deal to say for himself. But those who are
acquainted with the proofs of religion, can
easily demonstrate, that such a believer does
truly receive his faith from the inspiration of
God, though he may not be able to prove it
himself.

VII.

THAT THERE IS MORE ADVANTAGE IN BE-
LIEVING, THAN IN DISBELIEVING THE CHRIS-
TIAN RELIGION.

U NITY, added to infinity, does not increase
it, any more than a foot-measure increases an in-
finite space. What is finite, vanishes before that
which is infinite, and becomes nothing. Thus
does our understanding before God ; and our
righteousness before his righteousness.

There is not so great a disproportion between
unity and infinity, as there is between man's
righteousness and the righteousness of God.

128 MORE ADVANTAGE IN BELIEVING THAN

We know that there is an infinite; but we
are ignorant of its nature. For instance, we
know that numbers cannot be finite : there must,
therefore, be an infinity in number. But we
know not what it is. It can neither be equal nor
unequal, because adding unity to it, cannot
change its nature in the least. So we may
certainly know there is a God, without com-
prehending what he is; and you ought by no
means to conclude there is no God, because you
cannot perfectly comprehend his nature.

t/ To convince you of his existence, I shall
_not avail myself of faith, by which we most
certainly know it ; nor of some other proofs of
which we are in possession, because you will not
receive them. I shall argue with you only
upon your own principles; and I take upon
me to show, from the manner in which you
reason every day concerning things of the
smallest importance, how you ought to reason
respecting this; and which side you ought to
take, in the decision of this important question>
concerning the existence of God. You say
then, th^t we are incapable of knowing whether
there is a God. Now it is certain, that either
there is a God, or there is not ; there can be no
medium. Which part then shall we choose ?
Reason, you will say, is not able to determine.
There is an, infinite chaos between us. We play,

DISBELIEVING CHRISTIANITY. 129

as it were, for Cross or Piky at an infinite dis-
tance. For which will you wager ? By reason
you can assure yourself neither of one nor the
other. By reason you can disprove neither one
nor the other.

Do not then accuse those of duplicity, who
have already made their choice* For you can-
not know that they are wrong, and have made
a bad one. No, you will say, but 1 blame
them not for making this choice, but for
making any : he that takes Cross, and he that
takes Pile, are both in the wrong; the right
had been not to wager at all.

Nay, but there is a necessity to wager ; the
thing is placed beyond your will ; you are
actually embarked in it, and by not laying that
God is, you in effect lay that he is not. Which
side then will you take ? Let us balance the
gain and the loss of taking the affirmative. If
you gain, you gain every thing ; if you lose,
you lose nothing. Wager, therefore, that he IS,
without delay. — Well I must lay — but perhaps I
shall stake too much ? Let us see — Supposing
the chance to be equal, and that you had two
lives to gain, and but one to lose, you might
safely lay then. And in case there were ten to
win, you would certainly be imprudent not to
hazard one life for ten, at a game where the
chances were even. But here is an infinite
number of lives of infinite happiness, to be won

K

ISO MORE ADVANTAGE IN BELIEVING THAN

\on an equal risk ; and the stake you venture is
Iso petty a thing, and of so short a duration, that
it is ridiculous to hesitate on the occasion.

It avails nothing to say it is uncertain that
you shall win, and that your risk is certain ; and
that the infinite distance between the certainty
of what you venture, and the uncertainty of
what you may win, makes the finite good which
you expose, equal to the infinite, which is un-
certain: for this is not true. Every gamester
stakes what is certain, against what is uncertain ;
and yet, by venturing a finite certainty for a
finite uncertainty, he does not act contrary to
reason. There is not an infinite distance be-
tween the certainty of what we venture, and the
uncertainty of the prize to be gained. There
is, indeed, an infinite distance between the cer-
tainty of winning, and the certainty of losing.
But the uncertainty of winning is proportioned to
the certainty of what we venture, according to
the proportion of the chances of winning or
losing: hence, if there be as many chances
on one side as on the other, the game is even ;
and then the certainty of what we venture is
equal to the uncertainty of the prize ; so far are
they from being infinitely distant; so that the
argument is of infinite force, if what we stake
be finite, where the chances of winning and
losing are equal, and that which may be won

DISBELIEVING CHRISTIANITY. 131

is infinite. We have here a demonstration,
and if men are capable of comprehending any
truth whatever, they cannot but feel the force
of this.

I own and confess it ; but are there not
some means of seeing a little clearer into this
matter? Certainly, through the medium of
scripture, and of the other proofs of religion^
which are numberless.

Men, you will say, who have the hope of
salvation are so far happy ; but the fear of hell
is a counterpoise to their happiness.

But which, I beseech you, has most cause to
be afraid of hell; he that is ignorant whether
there is a hell or not, and is certain of damna-
tion if there be ; or he who is certainly persuaded
there is a hell, but possesses the hope of deliver-
ance from it.

If a man who had but eight days to live,
should not think it wisest to consider that as
somewhat more than a mere matter of chance>
he must have utterly lost his understanding.
And were we not enslaved by our passions,
eight days and a hundred years would, in this
calculation, appear the same thing;

What harm then are you likely to sustain by
taking this part. You will be faithful, honest,
humble, grateful, beneficent* upright, and sin-
cere. It is true, you will not live in poisoned
pleasure, in earthly glory, in sensual delights:

132 MORE ADVANTAGE IN BELIEVING THAN

but will you not have others more desirable ?
I tell you, you will gain, even in this life :
and that at every step you take in this path,
you will discover so much certainty of advan-
tage, and so much nullity in what you hazard,
that at length you will find you have betted
for a sure and infinite profit, and have in effect
risked nothing to obtain it.

You say, you are so made as to be incapable
of believing : at least then be persuaded of
your incapacity, since although reason invites
you to it, still you cannot believe. Labour
then to be convinced, not by augmenting the
proofs of a Deity, but by diminishing the
power of your passions. You would arrive at
faith, but you know not the way : you would
be cured of your infidelity, and you ask what
are its remedies: learn them from those who
were once in your condition, but are at present
without any doubt. They know the path which
you would find : they have recovered from the
disease of which you wish to be healed. Pur-
sue the method with which they began : imitate
their external actions, if you cannot, as yet,
participate their inward dispositions : quit those
vain amusements which have hitherto entirely
employed you.

I should soon have quitted these pleasures, say
you, if I had but had faith. And I say, on

DISBELIEVING CHRISTIANITY. 13$

the other hand, you would soon have had faith,
if you had quitted your pleasures. It is
your part to begin. I would give you faith
if I could ; I am unable to do this, and, con-
sequently, to put the truth of what you say to
the test : but you may easily abandon your
pleasures ; and put the truth of what I say to
the test.

We must not forget our own nature ; we are
body as well as spirit ; and hence it comes to
pass, that the instrument by which conviction
is produced, is not demonstration only. How
few things are there demonstrated ? Demon-
strations act only on the mind ; but custom
produces our strongest convictions: it engages
the senses, and they incline the understanding,
without even giving it time for thought. Who
has ever demonstrated the certainty of to-mor- /
row's light, or of our own death ! And yet
what is more universally believed ? Custom,
therefore, persuades us of it. Custom makes so
many men Pagans and Turks; and so many
artisans, soldiers, &c. It is true that we ought
not to begin with custom in our inquiries after
truth; but we must have recourse to it, when
once we have discovered where truth is, in
order to refresh and invigorate our belief,
which every passing hour inclines us to forget ;
for a regular train of arguments cannot always
K3 '

134 HUMAN REASON

be present to our minds. We want something
n; ore easy, a habit of believing, which, without
violence, or art, or argument, compels our
assent, and so inclines all our powers toward
it, that we naturally fall into it. It will not
be sufficient that we are willing to believe any
thing upon the force of conviction, when our
senses are soliciting us to believe directly the
contrary. The two parts of ourselves must al-
ways proceed in concert ; the understanding by
those arguments which it is sufficient once in
our lives to have understood ; the senses by habit,
and by not suffering them to take a contrary
bias.

- - - "*•• - • ~~
VIII.

DESCRIPTION OF A MAN WHO HAS WEARIED
HIMSELF WITH SEARCHING AFTER GOD BY
REASONING ALONE, AND WHO IS NOW BE-
GINNING TO READ THE SCRIPTURES.

VV HEN I consider the blindness and misery
of man, and those amazing contrarieties which
discover themselves in his nature; when I ob-
serve the whole creation to be silent, and man
left in darkness, abandoned to himself, and, as

YIELDING TO REVELATION. 135

it were, wandering in this corner of the uni-
verse, neither knowing who placed him there,
nor what he came to do, nor what will become
of .him when he dies, I am struck with the
same horror, as a man who has been carried
in his sleep into some desolate and frightful
island, and who awakes without knowing where
he is, or how he can make his escape. And,
upon this view, I am astonished that so miser-
able a state is not productive of despair. I see
other persons near me, of the same nature with
myself: I ask them if they are any better in-
formed than I am, they tell me they are not;
I then observe, that these miserable wanderers,
having looked round, and espied certain objects
that please them, have given themselves up to
them, and are careless about every thing else.
For my own part, I could not continue, nor
be at rest in the society of persons like myself,
miserable like me, impotent like me. I see they
will be able to give me no assistance at my
death: I shall die alone ; and, therefore, I must
act as if I were alone. Now if I were alone, I
should not build houses, I should not perplex
myself with the tumult of affairs; I would
court the esteem of no one; but would devote
myself entirely to the discovery of truth*

Hence reflecting how probable it seems, that
there is something besides what I now see; I
inquire, whether that God of whom all the
K 4

136 HUMAN REASON

world speaks, has left any marks of himself.
I look round on all sides, and see nothing but
obscurity. Nature exhibits nothing but matter
of doubt and disquiet. If I could no-where
discern any mark of divinity, I would resolve
not to believe at all: If I could in every thing-
see the stamp of a Creator, I would rest in settled
belief. But while I see too much to deny, and
too little to make me certain, my condition
renders me an object of pity; and I have a lnn>
dred times wished, that if there be a God who is
the supporter of nature, she would show him
without ambiguity; and that if the characters
she exhibits are fallacious, she would conceal
them altogether. Let her either say all or no-
thing, that I may know which part I should
take. Whereas, in my present situation, igno-
rant of what I am, and of what I ought to do,
I know neither my condition nor my duty.
My heart is wholly bent on knowing where
the chief good is, in order that I may pursue it,
nor should I think any thing too dear to pb-
tain it.

I observe a multitude of religions in all
countries and times. But they are such as can
neither please me with their morals, nor satisfy
me with their proofs ; so that I would at once
f eject the religion of Mahomet, of the Chimse,
of ancient Rome, or of Egypt, for this single
reason, that as no one of them can produce

YIELDING TO REVELATION. 137

more marks of truth than another, and neither of
them contains any thing decisive, reason cannot
incline me to one of them more than to either
of the rest.

But while I am reflecting on this strange and
unaccountable variety in the manners and creeds
of different periods, I find in one little corner of
'the world, a peculiar people, separated from
all the other nations of the earth, whose registers
exceed, by many ages, the most ancient histories
that we possess. I discover this great and nu-
merous people who worship but one God, and
are governed by a law which they affirm them-
selves to have received from his hand. They
maintain that, they are the only persons in the
world to whom God has made a revelation of his
mysteries ; that all men are corrupt, and under
the divine displeasure; that they are all aban-
doned to their own senses and imaginations,
from whence proceed their endless wanderings,
and continual changes in their customs and re-
ligion, while their nation, alone, has continued
unalterable in both. But, that God will not for
ever leave the rest of the nations in this darkness ;
that there shall come a Saviour for them all ; that
they are established in the world to announce
his arrival ; that they were formed on purpose to
be the heralds of this glorious event, and to call
upon all nations to unite with them in the ex-
pectation of this Redeemer.

138 HUMAN REASON

On meeting with this people, I am surprised,
and they seem to me deserving the closest at-
tention, on account of the many wonderful and
singular things discoverable in them.

They are a people composed entirely of
brethren: And whereas all others have been
constituted by an assemblage of an almost infi-
nite number of families, these, though so pro-
digiously fruitful, have all descended from one
man ; and thus being as it were one flesh, and
members one of another, they compose a formi-
dable power from one single family. This is un-
paralleled.

They are the most ancient people that man-
kind have any knowledge of; a circumstance
which, in my opinion, entitles them to very par-
ticular veneration, especially in regard to our
present inquiry; because, if God has, in all ages,
vouchsafed to reveal himself to mankind, these
are the persons to whom we must have recourse
in order to know that revelation.

Nor are they considerable only ia point of
antiquity, they are no less singular in their
duration, having always subsisted from their
origin to this day. For while the several
people of Greece, Italy, Sparta, Athens, Borne,
and others which sprung up long after them,
have been many ages extinct, these have always
subsisted ; and, in spite of the contrivances

ooiq

YIELDING TO REVELATION. 139

of many great and powerful princes, who have
an hundred times attempted their destruction,
(as history testifies, and as it is natural to infer,
from the ordinary revolutions of things, during
so long a course of years,) they have always
been preserved, and extending from the earliest
to the latest times, their annals comprise a
period equal in length to all the rest of our histo-
ries together.

The law by which this people is governed,
js in all respects the most ancient and most
perfect in the world, and the only one which
has always been preserved without interruption
in a state. This Philo, the Jew, has demon-
strated in several places, and Josephus, most ad-
mirably, in his discourse against Appion, where
he shows it to be so high in respect of antiquity,
that the very name of a law was not known in
the most ancient nations for more than a thou-
sand years after ; insomuch, that Homer, though
he has spoken of so many different nations, has
not once used the word. And we may easily
judge of the perfection of this law, from merely
reading it, by which we shall discern it to have
provided for every thing with so much wisdom,
justice, and equity, that the most ancient legisla-
tors of Greece and Rome have borrowed their
principal institutions from thence, as is evident
from the laws of the twelve tables, and by other
proofs which Josephus has produced.

140 HUMAN REASON

Yet this law is,, at the same time, severe ami
rigorous beyond all others, obliging the people,
in order to retain them in their duty, to a thou-
sand peculiar and painful observances, under
penalty of death ; so that it is a most astonishing
thing that it should have been preserved for so
many ages amongst a rebellious and impatient
people, as we know the Jews to have been; while
all other states have changed their laws from
time to time, though such, on the contrary, as
were easily observed.

This same people are also to be admired for
their sincerity : They preserve, with fidelity and
affection, the very boo.k in which Moses declares
them to have been always ungrateful towards
God, and that he foresaw they would be still
more so after his death ; in which he therefore
calls heaven and earth to witness against them,
as to the sufficiency of the warning which he had
given them ; and, finally, declares that God being
incensed against them, should scatter them
through all the nations of the earth ; and that
as they had provoked him to jealousy by serving
gods which were jw gods., he also should provoke
them, by calling a people which were not. his people.
Nevertheless this book which condemns them in
so many ways, they preserve at the expence*bf
their lives. Such sincerity as this is without
example in the world, and does not spring from
the nature of man.

YIELDING TO REVELATION. 141

To conclude : I find no reason to suspect
the authority of the book which contains all
these particulars : For there is a very great
difference between a book composed by an
individual, and dispersed amongst a people,
and a book which the people themselves have
compiled. In this case the antiquity of the
book, and of the people, is undoubtedly the
same.

These writings, moreover, were composed by
authors contemporary to the facts which they
record. All histories compiled by persons of a
period different from that of the actions they
describe, are suspicious; as the books of the
Sybils, of Hermes Trismegistus, and many others,
which gained credit in the world, and have since
been detected as forgeries. But this is not the
case with contemporary authors.

Tv

THE UNRIGHTEOUSNESS AND DEPRAVITY

OF MAN.

IVl AN is evidently made for thinking : This is
the whole of his dignity, and the whole of his
merit. To think as he ought, is the whole of his

142 THE UNRIGHTEOUSNESS AND

duty ; and the true order of thinking, is to begin
with himself, his author, and his end. And yet
what is it that is thought of in the world? Not
one ef these objects; but how to take pleasure,
how to grow rich, how to gain reputation, how
to make ourselves kings ; without ever reflecting
what it is to be a king, or even to be a man.

Human thought is a thing wonderful in its na-
ture. It must have prodigious defects to become
contemptible, and yet it has such, that nothing
can be more ridiculous. How great is it by its
nature ! how despicable by its defects !

If there be a God, it is our duty to love Him,
and not creatures. The reasoning of the
wicked described in the book of Wisdom,
(Chap, ii.) is founded on the persuasion, that
there is no God. And this being taken for
granted, now say they, we will have our fill of
the creatures : But if they had known that
there really is a God, they would have con-
cluded directly the contrary. And this is the
conclusion of the wise— There is a God; let
us not, therefore, seek happiness in creatures.
Every thing which incites us to confine our-
selves to creatures is evil, because it either
hinders us from serving God, if we already
know him, or from seeking him, if we know
him not. We are full of concupiscence; there-

DEPRAVITY OF MAN. 143

fore we are full of evil ; and if so, we ought to
detest ourselves, and all that attaches us to any
thing else but to God alone.

:

When we endeavour to think of God, how
many things do we feel diverting us from him,
and tempting us to think of somewhat else?
All this is evil, and evil that we bring with us
into the world.

It is not true that we deserve that others
should love us; nor is it just that we should
so eagerly covet it. If we were born thoroughly
reasonable, and with any proper knowledge of
ourselves, we should not entertain such a desire.
And yet this attends us from our birth. We
are therefore unrighteous from our birth; for
every man's object is himself. This is contrary
to order. Our object should be the general good ;
and this bias towards ourselves, is the first spring
of all disorder, in war, in government, and in
domestic affairs.

If the members of all communities, both na-
tural and civil, should each seek the good of their
respective bodies ; so every community ought to
aim at the welfare of the general body, of which
it is only a part.

Whosoever does not detest in his own heart,
that self-love, that instinct which prompts him
to set himself above every thing else, is most

144 THE UNRIGHTEOUSNESS OF MAN.

wretchedly blind ; for nothing is more opposite
to justice and truth. For we do not deserve such
a preference, and it is unjust and impossible to
obtain it, because all seek the very same thing.
It is therefore a manifest injustice, in which we
are born, which we cannot shake off, and yet
ought to get rid of.

Nevertheless, no religion but the Christian has
informed us that this is a sin, or that we are born
under its power, or that we are bound to strive
against it ; nor has any one thought of a method
for its cure.

There is an internal war in man, between his
reason and his passions. He might enjoy some
sort of repose, if he had reason without passions,
or passions without reason. But, since he is
actuated by both, he lives in continual disquiet,
and can never be at peace with the one, without
being at war with the other. Hence he is
always divided, and always at variance with
himself.

If it be an unnatural degree of blindness to live
utterly unconcerned about what we are, it is a far
more terrible thing to live wickedly, when we
believe there is a God ; and yet the greater part
of mankind are under one or other of these in-
fatuations.

145

X.

THE JEWS.

having determined to make it appear
that he was able to form a people, spiritually
holy, and to fill them with eternal glory, repre-
sented in the oeconomy of nature, what he in-
tended to accomplish in that of grace, that men
might conclude he could produce that which is
invisible, from their observation of that which is
visible.

He therefore saved his people from the deluge,
in the person of Noah : he caused them to spring
from Abraham: he redeemed them from their
enemies, and brought them into the rest which
he had promised them.

The design of God was not to save them
from the deluge, and to produce a whole nation
from Abraham, merely for the sake of conduct-
ing them into a land of plenty. But as nature
is an image of grace, so these visible miracles
were symbols of the invisible, which he intended
to perform.

Another reason for which he formed the Jewish
people was, that as he intended to abridge his
servants of carnal and perishable enjoyments, he

146 THE JEWS.

determined to evince, by such a series of mira-
cles, that it was not for want of power to bestow

them.

•

This people were immersed in these earthly
conceits — that God loved their father Abraham,
his person, and all who descended from him:
that, for this reason, he had multiplied them and
distinguished them from all other people, not
even suffering them to mix with other nations ;
had delivered them out of Egypt, with all those
wonderful signs which he performed in their
favour; had fed them with manna in the wilder-
ness ; had brought them into a fruitful and happy
country ; had given them kings, and a magnifi-
cent temple, for the offering up of beasts and the
purification of themselves by their blood and
that he would at length send them the Messiah,
who was to render them masters of the whole
world.

The Jews were accustomed to great and
splendid miracles ; and, hence, looking on
those performed at the Red-Sea, and in the
land of Canaan, as only an abridgment of the
mighty things their Messiah was to effect, they
expected from him actions still more illustrious,
of which all that Moses had done was only a
pattern.

When they were now grown old in these car-
nal errors, Jesus Christ actually came at the

f HE JEWS. 147

time foretold, but not with that outward splen-
dour they expected : and hence they did not
believe it was him. After his death St. Paul was
sent to instruct men, that all these things hap-
pened in figure; that the kingdom of God was
not in the flesh, but in the spirit ; that the ene-
mies of men were not the Babylonians, but their
own passions; that God delighted not in a
temple made with hands, but in a pure and
humble mind; that bodily circumcision was
unprofitable, and that of the heart indispens-
able, &c.

God not having thought fit to disclose these
things to so unworthy a people, and nevertheless
having designed to foretel them, in order that
they might be believed, predicted clearly the
time of their accomplishment, and sometimes
declared them plainly, but generally under
figures, to fix the attention of those who loved
figurative representations ; and yet so that those
who loved the things figured, might be able to
discern them. Hence the people were divided
at the time of the Messiah: those who were
spiritual received him : and those who were car-
nal, and rejected him, remain to this day as
witnesses for him.

The carnal Jews understood neither the great-
ness, nor the humiliation of the Messiah, which
were foretold by the prophets. They mistook

148 THE JEWS.

his true greatness, when they were assured, that
he should be David's Lord, although he was his
Son; that he was before Abraham, and had seen
him. They did not conceive he was so great,
as to have existed from all eternity. And they
no less mistook him in his humiliation and
death. " The Messiah (say they) abideth for
ever, and this Man declares that he shall die."
Therefore they neither believed him to be mortal,
nor eternal : they looked to the Messiah for no-
thing but worldly aggrandizement.

They were so fond of the figures, and so lite-
rally expected them, that they mistook the sub-
stance, when it came at the time> and in the
manner that had been foretold.

Men indisposed to believing, are wont to
shelter themselves under the unbelief of the
Jews. If all this, say they, was so clear, why
did not the Jews believe in him? Whereas,
their rejection of him is a ground for our faith.
If they had believed, we should be less disposed
to believe. We should then have a more co-
lourable pretext for incredulity and distrust.
This is wonderful indeed, to see the Jews at
once such ardent lovers of the things which
were prophesied, and yet such violent haters of
the accomplishment of those very prophecies ;
and that this hatred itself should have been also
foretold.

THE JEWS 149

To give sufficient credibility to the Messiah,
it was necessary that certain prophecies should
precede his appearance, and should remain in
the custody of unsuspected persons, of diligence,
fidelity, and extraordinary zeal, and such as were
known to the rest of mankind.

That things might succeed accordingly, God
made choice of this carnal people, to whom he
intrusted the predictions concerning the Messiah,
which described him as a deliverer, and a dis-
penser of carnal blessings, which they loved-
Hence they had an extraordinary zeal for their
prophets, and held out to all the world those
books which foretold the Messiah; assuring all
nations that he would certainly come, in the
very manner expressed by their records, which
they kept open to the view of the whole world.
But being deceived by his coming in such a
mean and ignominious condition, they became
his greatest opposers. So that here is a people,
who, of all mankind, can be least suspected of
favouring us, nevertheless supporting our cause ;
and, by the zeal which they show for their law
and their prophets, preserving, with the most in-
corruptible exactness, our evidences, and their
own condemnation.

Those who have rejected and crucified Jesus
Christ, who was an offence to them, are the same
people who preserved those writings which testify
concerning him, and which affirm that he shall

LS

150 THE JEWS.

be despised and rejected by them. Thus their
refusal of him has borne express testimony to
him; and he has been equally demonstrated by
the righteous Jews who received him, and by the
wicked .Jews who rejected him; both having
been exactly foretold.

For this reason the prophecies have a double
sense, one spiritual, to which this people were
strongly averse, concealed under a literal one,
which they liked. If the spiritual sense had been
disclosed to them, as they were unable to em-
brace it, and could not have borne it, they
would have had very little zeal to preserve their
writings and ceremonial institutions : and if they
had relished these spiritual promises, and pre-
served them uncorrupted till the time of the
Messiah, their evidence would have been de-
prived of its force, as being the testimony of his
friends. We see, therefore, the necessity for
veiling the spiritual sense : but yet, on the other
hand, if its obscurity had been too deep for
discovery, it could not have been an evidence
of the Messiah. What, therefore, was done?
The spiritual sense was disguised under the literal,
in most places ; but in some, was expressly and
clearly delivered. Moreover, the time and state
of the world were so exactly foretold, that the
sun itself is not clearer. And there are some
passages in which the spiritual meaning is
so clearly explained, that no blindness short of

THE JEWS. 151

that which the flesh brings upon a mind that is
entirely enslaved by it, can with-hold us from
discerning it.

Such then was the conduct of God. In an
infinite number of places the spiritual sense is
covered over with another 5 yet in some, though
rarely, it is openly revealed: but in such a
manner, that the passages in which it is con-
cealed admit of both interpretations, while those
in which it is explained can admit only of the
spiritual.

This method could not therefore lead men
into error; nor could any, but a people whose
heart was so entirely carnal, have misunderstood it.

For when good things were promised them in
abundance, what could hinder them from in-
terpreting these promises of real blessings, but
their concupiscence, which made them explain
them of earthly advantages? Whereas those
whose only treasure was in God, would have re-
ferred them entirely to God. For there are two
principles which divide the wills of men, concu-
piscence and charity. It is not, indeed, impos-
sible that concupiscence should co-exist with
faith, or charity with temporal possessions: but
concupiscence avails itself of God, to enjoy the
world ; the latter makes use of the world, but
enjoys God.

L 4

152 THE JEWS.

Again, the end which we pursue is that which
gives names to things. Whatever hinders us in
the prosecution of that, we consider as an enemy.
Thus the creatures, which are good in them^
selves, are the enemies of good men, when they
lead them from God; and God himself is ac-
counted an enemy by those whom he thwarts
in their lusts.

Hence the appellation of enemy being applied
according to the end men have in view- ; good
men understood it of their passions, and carnal
men of the Babylonians ; so that these terms
were only obscure to the wicked. And this
was the meaning of Isaiah when he said, Seal
the law among my disciples. Isa. viii. 16, And,
that Christ should be a a stone of stumbling, 'and
a rock of offence, (v. 14.) but blessed are those
who shall not be offended in him. Matt. xi. 6.
Hosea also says the same thing: Who is wise,
and he shall understand tJtese things; prudent,
and he shall know them ? For the ways of the
Lord arc right, and the just shall walk, in
them; but transgressors shall fall therein. Hos.
xiv. 9.

Yet the Old Testament was so framed, that
while it enlightened some, and blinded others, it
demonstrated in the latter the truth which it re-
vealed to the former. For the visible blessings
which they received from God, were so great and

THE JEWS. 153

divine, that they evidently testified his 'power to
give them those which were invisible, and also a
Messiah,

The time of our Lord's first coming is expressly
foretold ; but that of his second is not. Because
the first was to be private, whereas the second
will be glorious, and so manifest, that his enemies
themselves will acknowledge him. But though
his first appearance was to be obscure, and dis-
cernible only by those who searched the scrip-
tures, God had so ordered things, that all this
contributed to characterize him. The Jews proved
him by receiving him ; for they were depositaries
of the prophecies, and they proved him also by
rejecting him, because in this they accomplished
the prophecies.

The Jews had both miracles and prophecies
which they saw fulfilled; the peculiar doctrine
of their law was the love and adoration of only
one God; and this was perpetual: it had, there-
fore, every mark of the true religion ; and so it
really was. But we are to distinguish between
the doctrine of the Jews, and the doctrine of the
Jaw of the Jews. For the doctrine of the Jews
was not true, although it had miracles and pro-
phecies, and perpetuity on its side; because it
was deficient in the main principle, of loving and
adoring God only.

The Jewish religion must therefore be con-

154 THE JEWS.

sidered very differently in the tradition of their
saints, and in the tradition of the people. Its
morality and happiness are both ridiculous, ac-
cording to the tradition of the people ; but they
are incomparable in that of their saints. Its
foundation is wonderful ; it is the most ancient
and most authentic book in the world: And
whereas Mahomet, that his writings might con-
tinue, has forbidden them to be read ; Moses that
his might continue, has commanded every body
to read them.

The religion of the Jews is altogether divine
in its authority, its duration, its perpetuity,
its morality, its conduct, its doctrine, its effects.
It was formed as a representation of the reality
of the Messiah ; and the reality of the Messiah
was made evident by the Jewish religion, which
represented him.

Under the Jewish ceconomy truth appeared
only in figure : in heaven it is without veil : in
the church it is veiled, but discerned by its cor-
respondence to the figure. As the figure was
first built upon the truth, so the truth is now
distinguishable by the figure.

He that forms his judgment of the Jewish re-
ligion, by its exterior, will judge wrongly. It is
to be seen in the sacred writings, and in the tra-
ditions of the prophets, who sufficiently proved

THE JEWS. 155

that they did not understand the law accord-
ing to the letter. Our religion, in like manner,
is divine in the Gospel, m the Apostles, and in
its traditions ; but it is utterly disfigured in those
who treat it injudiciously.

The Jews were of two classes; some were
merely Pagan in their affections, while others
were really Christian.

The Messiah, according to the carnal Jews,
was to be a mighty temporal prince. Accord-
ing to carnal Christians, he is come to dispense
with our loving God, and to give us Sacraments
which shall do every thing without us. This is
no more the religion of Christians, than that was
the religion of the Jews.

The true Jews and true Christians agree in
acknowledging a Messiah, who shall make them
love God, and by that love shall make them
triumph over their enemies.

The veil which is upon the scriptures, in
respect to the carnal Jews, is there, likewise, in
respect to wicked Christians, and all those who
do not hate themselves. But how well are we
disposed to understand them, and to become ac-
quainted with Jesus Christ, when we are once
made properly to abhor ourselves !

Carnal Jews fill the middle place between

156 MOSES.

Christians and Pagans. The Pagans knew not
God, and loved nothing but the world. The
Jews knew the true God, and still loved nothing
but the world. Christians know the true God,
and love not the world: Jews and Pagans love
the same world: Christians and Jews know the
same God.

The Jews are a people visibly framed to be
the standing witnesses of the MessiaJi. They
preserve the scriptures ; they love them, and yet
do not understand them. And all this has been
foretold; for it is said, that the statutes of God
should be delivered to them, but as a book that is
sealed.

So long as there were prophets to support the
law, the people were negligent; but when the
prophets ceased, the zeal of the people supplied
their place ; which is a providence too remark-
able to be overlooked.

XL

MOSES.

W HEN the creation of the world became a
distant event, God provided a contemporary
historian, and appointed a whole nation for the

MOSES. 157

keepers of his history, in order that it might be
the most authentic in the world, and that all
mankind might hence be informed of a fact,
which it was so necessary for them to know,
and yet was impossible to be known in any
.other way.

Moses was a very able man. This is indis-
putable. Had he, therefore, written with a de-
sign to deceive, he would have done it in such
a manner as not to be convicted of the deceit.
He has, however, done just the reverse > for if
what he delivered had been fabulous, there was
not a single Jew but could have detected the im-
posture.

Why, for instance, does he make the lives of
the first men so long, and their generations
so few ? In a multitude of generations he might
have sheltered himself from discovery ; but in so
few this was impracticable. For it is not the
number of years, but the multitude of genera-
tions, which renders things obscure.

Truth is enfeebled only by the changes among
men. Yet he places the two greatest events
that were ever conceived, the creation and the
deluge, so close together, that they touch, as it
were, from the few generations which he reckons
between them. Insomuch, that at the time of
his registering these things, the memory of them
could not but be still fresh in the minds of all
the few ink nation.

158 MOSES.

Larnech had seen Adam; Shem had seen La*
mec/iy Abraham, Shem; Jacob, Abraham; and
Moses those who had seen Jacob. Therefore
the creation and the deluge are indubitably
true. This will be acknowledged as conclusive
by certain persons, who will readily understand
it.

The longevity of the Patriarchs, instead of
contributing to the decay of past facts, served,
on the contrary, to their preservation. For the
reason why we are not often sufficiently in-
structed in the history of our ancestors is, be-
cause we have seldom lived with them, or because
they died before we attained the age of reason.
But when men lived to so great an age, children
lived long with their parents, and had much op-
portunity of conversing with them; now what
could have been the subject of their conversa-
tion, but the history of their progenitors ; since
this comprised all history whatever, and men
were not then acquainted with the arts and
sciences, which now take up so large a share in
our discourse ? And it is evident that the keep-
ing exact genealogies was the peculiar care of
those earlier times.

FIGURES, 159

.XII.

FIGURES.

J. HERE are some figures clear and demon-
strative, and there are others which appear less
natural, and prove nothing but to those who
have been previously convinced. The latter
resemble those of some men who build pro-
phecies on the Revelations, which they expound
according to their own fancy. But there is
this difference between them, that they have
no infallible predictions to support those which
they introduce. So that they are guilty of the
highest injustice, when they pretend theirs to
be as well grounded as some of ours; be-
cause they have not any others which are
incontestable as we have. The case there-
fore is by no means parallel. We are not to
level and confound things which agree in one
respect, when they are so vastly different in
another.

Jesus Christ, prefigured by Joseph, the beloved
of his Father, and by him sent to visit his bre-
thren, is the innocent person whom his brethren
sold for twenty pieces of silver, and who, by this

160 FIGURES

means, became their Lord, their satiour, the
saviour of strangers, and of the whole world;
which had not happened but for their plot of
destroying him, making him an outcast, and
selling him for a slave.

Joseph was an innocent man in prison between
two criminals, Jesus on the cross between two
thieves : Joseph foretels deliverance to one of his
companions, and death to the other, from the
same tokens; Jesus Christ saves one and leaves
the other, after the same crimes: Joseph could
only foretel^ Jesus Christ performed what he
foretold: Joseph requests the person who should
be delivered, to be mindful of him in his glory;
the man saved by Jesus Christ, entreats he will
remember him when he comes into his king-
dom.

Grace is the figure of glory ; for it is not the
ultimate object. It was prefigured by the law,
and it prefigures glory; but so that it is itself the
way to arrive at glory.

The Synagogue was not destroyed, because it
was the figure of the church : and because it was
only the figure, it fell into servitude. The figure
subsisted till the arrival of the substance, that
the church might always be visible, either in the
representation or the reality.

•101

XIII,

THAT THE LAW WAS FIGURATIVE.

lO establish at once the authority of both
Testaments, we have only to observe, whether
that which is prophesied in the one, be accom-
plished in the other.

In order to examine the prophecies, we must
first of all understand them. For, supposing
them to have but one sense, the Messiah can-
not be come ; but, supposing them to have
two senses, he. certainly is come, in the person
of Jesus Christ.

All the question, therefore, is, whether they
have a double meaning ? Whether they are
figures or realities ; that is to say, whether we
ought to seek something more in them than
immediately presents itself, or whether we
ought to confine ourselves to that construction
which oilers itself at first view ?

If the law7 and the sacrifices were the sub-
stance, they would necessarily be acceptable to
God, and not be displeasing to him. If they
were only figurative, they would be both pleas-
ing and displeasing to him, in different respects.

M

162 THE LAW FIGURATIVE.

Now, throughout the scripture, they both please
and displease him; therefore they were only
figurative.

To see clearly that the old Dispensation was
merely figurative, and that the prophets when
they spake of temporal blessings had others in
view, we have only to consider, first, that it
would be unworthy of God to call men to the
enjoyment of nothing but temporal happiness ;
and secondly, that while the words of the pro-
phets clearly convey a promise of temporal
blessings, they yet affirm that their expressions
are obscure, that their meaning is not that
which appears obvious at first, and that it
would only be understood by the issue of
events. They therefore knew they were speak-
ing of other sacrifices, another deliverer, &c.

It must also be remarked, that their expres-
sions would contradict and invalidate each
other, if by the words law, and sacrifice, only
the law and the sacrifices instituted by Moses
are to be understood. Nay, there would be a
manifest and gross contradiction in their writ-
ings, and sometimes even in the same chapter.
From whence it follows, that they must have
had something further in prospect.

It is said, that the law shall be changed ;
that the sacrifice shall be changed; that they
shall be without kings, without princes, and
without sacrifices .; that a new covenant shall

THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 163

be established ; that the law shall be renewed;
that the commandments they had received
were not good ; that their sacrifices were
abominable, and that God had not required
them.

It is also said, on the other hand, that the
law shall abide for ever; that the covenant shall
be eternal, the sacrifices perpetual ; that the
sceptre should never depart from them, till the
everlasting King was come. Do these expres-
sions prove the law to be the substance? No.
Do they demonstrate it to be the figure ? No.
But that it must be either the substance or the
figure. Now the former, by excluding the sub-
stance, prove it can only be the figure.

All these passages taken together cannot be
applied to the substance ; but they may be all
applied to the figure: therefore, they were
spoken of the figure, and not of the sub-
stance.

To know whether the law and the sacrifices
are real or figurative, we must take notice
whether the prophets, in speaking of these
things, had their views and their thoughts so
entirely fixed on them, as to look no further
than the old covenant; or whether they did
not discern somewhat else, of which all this was
« representation ; for in a picture we discover

MS

1(J4 THE LAW FIGURATIVE.

the thing represented. Now in order to this,,
we uct'd only examine what they say.

When they say the covenant shall be ever-
lasting, do they mean the same which they
affirm shall be changed ? And so of the sacri-
fices, &c.

The prophets have expressly said, that Israel
shall always be beloved of God, and that the
law shall endure for ever. But they have like-
wise said, that their meaning was hidden, and
would not be understood.

; prr

We have a double meaning in a writing in
cypher. Suppose we intercept an important
letter, in which we are told there is one obvious
meaning, and that nevertheless the sense is so
obscured, that we shall even see the letter with-
out seeing it, and understand it without under-
standing it ; what are we to judge, but that the
cypher has a two-fold meaning? which is more-
over apparent from the evident contradictions
we meet with in the literal construction of it.
How ought we then to esteem those who de-
cypher this writing to us, and make us ac-
quainted with its hidden meaning, especially
when they go upon principles perfectly natural
and clear. This is what Jesus Christ and hi*
apostles have done : they have opened the seal ,

.

THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 165

they have rent the veil, and laid open the spi-
ritual sense. They have taught us, that our
enemies are our passions, that our Redeemer is
to be a spiritual Redeemer ; that he is to have
a first and a second coming, the one in humility
to abase the proud, the other in glory to exalt
the humble ; that Jesus Christ is God, as well as

Jesus Christ made it his whole business to
teach men, that they were lovers of themselves;
that they were enslaved, blind, distempered,
miserable, and sinful ; that it was needful he
should deliver them, enlighten them, bless
them, and heal them : That this was to be
effected by hating themselves, and following
him ; by poverty, and the death of the cross.

The letter killeth. It was necessary that Christ
should suffer. In a God who has humbled him-
self; in circumcision of the heart; a true fast, a
true sacrifice, a true temple, a two-fold law, a
two-fold table of the law, a two-fold captivity—
we behold the cypher he has presented to us.

He has now taught us that all these things
were but figures ; and what it is to be truly free,
to be a true Israelite ; wherein consists true cir-
cumcision, the true bread of heaven, &e.

By these promises everv one may detect which
lies nearest his heart, spiritual or temporal bless-
M3

166 THE LAW FIGURATIVE.

ings ; God or creatures : but with this differ-
ence, that they who look in the promises only
for creatures, find them attended with numeious
contradictions, with a prohibition to love them,
and with a command to worship God alone, and
to love nothing but Him : whereas they who
seek God in them, find Him without any contra-
diction, and with a pleasing command to love
none but Him only.

The sources of the contrarieties in scriptures,
are a God humbled to the death of the cross ;
a Messiah triumphing over death by dying him-
self; the two natures in Jesus Christ ; his two-
fold coming ; and the two states of the nature
of man.

As we cannot justly describe a man's charac-
ter without accounting for all his contrarieties,
and as it is not enough to pursue a train of
agreeable qualities, without explaining those
which appear to be opposite; so, in order to
understand the sense of an author, all the con-
trary passages must be reconciled.

In order, therefore, to understand scripture,
we must have a sense in which all the opposite
passages agree. It is not sufficient to have one
in which many consonant passages unite, but
we must have one in which the most dissonant
shall agree.

THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 167

Every author either has a meaning in which
all the different passages will agree, or he has
no meaning at all. The latter cannot be said
of the scriptures, nor of the prophets : they
unquestionably had too much good sense. We
must therefore look out for a meaning by which
all the discordant parts may be reconciled.

Their true sense, therefore, cannot be that of
the Jews. But in Jesus Christ all the contradic-
tions are harmonized.

The Jews could not make the abrogation of
the royalty and principality, foretold by Hosea,
accord with the prophecy of Jacob.

If we take the law, the sacrifices, and the
kingdom, for the things ultimately designed,
we shall not be able to reconcile all the passages
of the same author, nor of the same book, nor,
often, of the same chapter: and this sufficiently
discovers the intention of the author.

The Jews were not permitted to offer sacri-
fice, or so much as to eat the tenths, out of
Jerusalem, which was the place that the Lord
had chosen.

Hosea foretold, that the Jews should be with-
out a king, without a prince, without sacrifice,
and without idols. Which is at this time accom-
plished ; for no sacrifice can be legally offered
out of Jerusalem.

Whenever the word of God, which is true,
M 4

168 THE LAW FIGURATIVE.

would be false if taken literally, it is true spiri-
tually. Sit thou on my right hand : literally this
is false, yet spiritually it is true. In such ex-
pressions God speaks after the manner of men :
and this only implies, that the same intentions
as men ha.ve in making others sit at their right
hand, God will also have with respect to the
Messiah. It is therefore a mark of the divine
intention, but not of the manner in which it is
to be carried into effect.

So when it is said to the Israelites, God has
received the odour of your incense, and will
give you in recompense a fertile and plentiful
land ; the meaning is, that the same intention
which a man delighted with your incense, would
have in rewarding you with a fruitful land, God
will express towards you ; because you have had
the same intention with respect to him, that a
man would express toward another, by offering
him incense.

The sole aim of the scripture is Charity. All
that does not directly tend to that single point
is the figure of it. For as there is but one end
in view, whatever does not lead to it, in express
terms, is figurative.

God in compassion to our weakness, which
makes us seek for variety, has so diversified this
one precept of charity, that he leads by this
very variety to the one thing -needful for us. For

THE LAW FIGURATIVE. 169

one thing only is needful, and we love variety.
Now God provides for both these facts, by a
variety which always leads to the one thing
needful.

The Rabbins take the breasts of the spouse
for figure ; as they do every thing which does
not express the only end they have in view,
namely, temporal blessings.

Some of them see clearly enough, that the
only enemy of man is concupiscence, which
turns him away from God ; and that God alone,
and not a fruitful land, is his real good.

Those who fancy the good of man to consist
in gratifying the flesh, and his evil in what
draws him oft* from the pleasures of sense, let
them wallow and die in their pleasures. But as
for those who seek God with their whole heart,
whom nothing can grieve but being deprived of
the light of his countenance, whose only desire
is to enjoy him, and whose only enemies are
those which withhold them from him; whose
affliction it is to see themselves surrounded, and
overruled by such enemies, let them be com-
forted : for them there is a deliverer, for them
there is a God ! The Messiah was promised to
deliver men from their enemies ; and he came
to deliver them from their sins, and not from
their external foes.

When David predicts that the Messiah shall

170 THE LAW FIGURATIVE.

deliver his people from their enemies, a carnal
expositor may apply this to the Egyptians :
and then I could not show him that the pro-
phecy has been fulfilled. But it may be well
applied to men's iniquities, since the Egyptians
are not men's real enemies, but their iniquities
are. So that the word enemy is ambiguous.

But as he also declares, together with Isaiah,
and others, that the Messiah shall deliver his
p°eople from their sins, the ambiguity is taken
off, and the double meaning of enemies is re-
duced to the single interpretation of iniquities.
For if he had sins in view, he might well denote
them by the term enemies : but if he had only
temporal enemies in view, it was impossible he
should distinguish them by the appellation of
sins.

Now Moses, David, and Isaiah, all employ
the same terms. Who then can say that these
terms have not the same sense ; and that the
intention of David, who evidently means sins
when he speaks of men's enemies, is not the
same as that of Moses when he is speaking of
their enemies.

Daniel, in his ninth chapter, prays that the
people may be delivered from the captivity of
their enemies; but he thought of their trans-
gressions : and to make it clear, he relates the
coming of Gabriel to him, to assure him he was
heard: and that he had only to wait seventy

JESUS CHRIST. 171

weeks, after which the people should obtain de-
liverance from their iniquity, that transgression
should be brought to an end, and the Redeemer,
the Holy of Holies, should bring in, not legal,
but everlasting righteousness.

When we are once let into this mystery, it is
impossible not to discern it. Let us read the
Old Testament with this view : let us see whether
the sacrifices were real sacrifices, whether Abra-
ham $ lineage was the true cause of the friend-
ship of God to him ? Whether the promised land
was the true place of rest ? Neither of these
can be affirmed ; therefore they were only sym-
bolical. In a word, let us examine all the legal
ceremonies, and all the precepts which are riot
of Charity, and we shall find they are nothing
but representations.

XIV.

JESUS CHRIST.

JL HE infinite distance between body and
spirit, is a figure of the infinitely more infinite
distance between our spirit and charity, which
is absolutely supernatural.

All the splendor of outward grandeur has no

172 JESUS CHRIST.

lustre in the eyes of those who are engaged in
mental researches.

The greatness of men of talents is invisible
to the rich, to kings, and conquerors,, and to
all these earthly great ones.

The greatness of that wisdom which cometh
from God, is invisible to the worldly, and to
men of talents. Here are three orders of quite
different kinds.

Great geniuses have their empire, their splen-
dor, their greatness, their victories, and do not
stand in need of carnal greatness, which has no
relation to that which they seek. They are to
be seen with the mind, and not with the eye ;
but that is enough for them.

Saints likewise have their empire> their
splendor, their greatness, and their victories ;
and have no need either of carnal or mental
greatness, which are not of their order, and
neither increase nor diminish the greatness to
which they aspire. They are seen of God and
of angels, and not with the eye of the body,
nor by curious minds ; and God is sufficient for
them.

Archimedes would have been held in the same
estimation, without any splendor of birth. He
fought no battles; but he has left to all the
world his admirable inventions. O ! how great
and illustrious does he appear to the eyes of the
mind?

JESUS CHRIST. 173

Jesus Christ., without riches, without any ex-
ternal display of science, stands in his own or-
der, that of holiness. He neither published ii>
ventions, nor reigned over kingdoms ; but he
was humble, patient, pure before God, terrible
to devils, and altogether without sin. O ! with
what illustrious pomp, with what transcendent
magnificence did he come, to such as see with
the eyes of the heart, and are the discerners of
true wisdom !

It would have been useless for Archimedes to
have acted the prince, in his book of geometry,
although he really was one.

It would have been useless for our Lord Jesus
Christ to have come as an earthly king, in order
that he might shine in his kingdom of holiness.
But how consistently did he come with the
character of his own order !

It is ridiculous to be scandalized at the mean
condition of Jesus Christ, as if that meanness
stood in the same order with the greatness
which he came to display. Let us contemplate
this greatness in his life, in his sufferings, in
his obscurity, in his death, in the choice of his
attendants, in their forsaking him, in his secret
resurrection, and in all the other parts of his
history ; and we shall see it to be so great, as
to leave no ground for being offended at his
meanness, for there wras no meanness in him.

But there are some who can admire no greats

174 JESUS CHRIST.

ness but that of this world; as if there was
none in understanding ; and others admire only
that of the understanding, as if there was not
a greatness infinitely more sublime in heavenly
wisdom.

The whole system of bodies, the firmament,
the stars, the earth, and the kingdoms of it,
are inferior in value to the meanest of spirits ;
because a spirit is capable of knowing all this,
and itself also, which body is not. And the
whole system of bodies and spirits together, is
unequal to the least motion of charity ; for it
is of an order infinitely more exalted.

"7^ From all bodies together, we could not ex-
tract a single thought ; it is impossible, — for
thought is quite of a different order. Again,
all bodies and spirits together are unable to pro-
duce one movement of real chanty. This is
likewise impossible, for charity is of another or-
der, entirely supernatural.

Jesus Christ lived in so much obscurity, (as
the world terms obscurity) that historians who
record only things of importance, have scarcely
taken any notice of him.

Yet what man ever possessed so much glory
as Jesus Christ ? The whole Jewish nation pre-
dicted him before his coming : the Gentile

JESUS CHRIST. 175

world adore him since his coming. Both Jews
arid Gentiles regard him as their centre. And
yet who ever enjoyed so little of so much
glory? Of thirty-three years, he spent thirty
in privacy. During the other three he passed
for an impostor, the priests and rulers of his
nation rejected him, his friends and his kins-
men despised him ; and, at last, he died an
ignominious death, betrayed by one of his at-
tendants, denied by another, and deserted by
all.

What share then had he in this glory ? No
man had ever so much, and yet no man was
ever in a meaner condition. All his glory was
therefore for our sakes, to render him evident
to us ; but was not intended to aggrandize him-
self.

Jesus Christ speaks of the sublimest subjects
in a manner as simple as if he had never con-
sidered them, but nevertheless his expressions
are so exact, as to show that he had thoroughly
weighed them. Such accuracy with such sim-
plicity, is admirable.

Who made the Evangelists acquainted with
the qualities of a soul truly heroic, that they
should paint it so perfectly as they have done
in Jesus Christ ? Why do they describe him as
weak in his agony ? Did they not know how

i;6 JESUS CHRIST.

to describe a courageous death ? Yes, certainly :
for St. Luke describes that of St. Stephen more
forcibly in this respect, than he has done that
of our Lord. They therefore represent him, as
capable of fear before his death actually arrived ;
but as dauntless afterward when it came. When
he is described as afflicted, his affliction is from
himself; but when troubled by men, he is un-
moved.

The Church has been obliged to prove that
Christ was Man, against those who have denied
it, as well as to prove that he was God ; for
appearances were as much against the one as
against the other.

Jesus Christ is a God to whom we approach
without pride, and before whom we are humbled
without despair.

The conversion of the heathen was reserved
for the grace of the Messiah. The Jews either
did not attempt it, or their attempts were un-
successful. All that the prophets and Solomon
had said on the subject was unavailing. Their
wise men, as Plato and Socrates, could not per-
suade them to worship the true God alone.

The gospel says nothing of the early life of
the Virgin Mary, but what relates to the birth

JESUS CHRIST. 177

of Jesus Christ, that every thing might bear
reference to him.

Both Testaments refer to Jesus Christ ; the
former as its hope ; the latter as its example ;
and both as their centre.

The prophets had the gift of foretelling ; but
never were foretold themselves : the saints,
which followed, were foretold ; but had not
the power of foretelling : Jesus Christ both
prophesied, and was prophesied of.

Jesus Christ, for all mankind ; Moses, for a
single nation.

The Jews were blessed in Abraham : I will
bless them that bless thee : Gen. xii. %. But
all nations are blessed in Abraham's seed: A
light to lighten the Gentiles, &c. Luke ii. 32.
He has not done so to any nation, says David,
speaking of the law: Ps. cxlvii. 20. He has
done so to all nations, may we say, speaking of
Jesus Christ.

Thus it is the prerogative of Jesus Christ to
be an universal blessing. The church offers sa-
crifice only for believers; Jesus Christ offered
that of the cross for all.

Let us then stretch out our arms to our deli-
verer; who, having been promised four thou-

N

178 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST

sand years, came at length to suffer and to die
for us, at the time, and under all the circum-
stances that were foretold ; and waiting by his
grace to die in peace, in the hope of being
eternally united to him, let us in the mean-
while live with comfort ; both among the good
things which it may please him to give us, and
among the evil things which he may send us
for our good, and which, by his own example,
he has taught us to endure.

XV.

THE EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST FROM THE
PROPHECIES.

JL HE most striking evidences of Jesus Christ
are the prophecies ; and therefore God has or-
dered them with peculiar care. For the full
accomplishment of them is a miracle which
extends from the beginning of the church to
the end. Sixteen hundred years together, God
raised up a succession of prophets ; and in the
four hundred years following, he dispersed their
prophecies along with the Jews, who carried
them into all parts of the world. Such was the
preparation for the birth of Jesus Christ ! As

FROM THE PROPHECIES. 179

3iis gospel was to be believed by all nations, it
was necessary, not only that there should be
prophecies to gain it this belief, but likewise
that they should be diffused through all the
world, that all the world might receive him.

If only one single man had left a book of
predictions concerning Jesus Christ, as to the
time and manner of his coming, and he had
come agreeably to those predictions, it would
have infinite weight. But here is much more.
Here is a succession of men, for four thousand
years, who regularly, and without variation,
succeed one another to foretel the same event.
A whole people are his harbingers ; and they
subsist four thousand years, to testify, in a
body, the assurances they have respecting him,
from which no threats or persecutions could
oblige them to depart. This is in every view
remarkable.

The exact time was pointed out in the pre-
dictions by the state of the Jews, by that of
the heathen world, by that of the temples,
and by the number of years.

The prophets having given various signs
which were all to concur at the coming of the
Messiah, it was necessary they should all meet
at the same period. Thus it was necessary that
the fourth monarchy should be established at
the expiration of Daniel's seventy weeks ; that
N 2

180 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST

the sceptre should then be taken from Judah,
and then that the Messiah should appear. And
at that juncture Jesus Christ appeared, and de-
clared himself to be the Messiah.

It is foretold, that under the fourth mo-
narchy, before the destruction of the second
Temple, before the dominion of the Jews was
taken away, and in the seventieth of Daniel's
weeks, the heathens should be instructed, and
brought to the knowledge of the God who
was adored by the Jews; that those who loved
him should be delivered from their enemies,
and be filled with his fear and love.

And it happened that in the time of the
fourth monarchy, before the destruction of the
second temple, &c. the Pagans in multitudes
adored the true God, and led an angelic life ;
women consecrated to religion their virginity,
and their lives ; men voluntarily renounced all
the pleasures of sense. That which Plato was
unable to persuade a few of the wisest and best
informed men of his time to do, a Secret Power, •
by means of a few words, now effected in
thousands of uneducated men.

"What can all this mean? It is that which
was foretold many ages before. / will pour
out my spirit upon all flesh. Joel ii. 28. All
nations lay in infidelity and lust. All the
world now becomes burning with charity ;
princes renounce their grandeur -, even young

FROM THE PROPHECIES. 181

women suffer martyrdom ; children forsake the
houses of their parents to go and live in de-
serts. Whence springs this courage ? The Mes-
siah is come ; behold the effects and the tokens
of his coming.

For two thousand years together the God of
the Jews remained unknown to an infinite
multitude of Pagan nations. Yet, at the pre-
cise time foretold, the Pagans throng to adore
this only true God ; the idol temples are de-
stroyed ; Kings submit themselves to the cross.
What is the cause of all this ? It is the Spirit
of God poured out upon the earth.

It was foretold that the Messiah should come
to establish a new covenant with his people,
wrhich would make them forget their departure
4>ut of Egypt. Jer. xxiii. 7- That he would
write his law, not on tables of stone, but on
their hearts, Jer. xxxi, 33. and put his fear,
which was till then displayed in external cere-
monies, into their hearts likewise. Jer. xxxii.
40.

That the Jews should reject our Lord, and
should themselves be rejected of God, the
choice vine bringeth forth only wild grapes.
Isa. v. C2— 7- That the chosen people should
prove disloyal, ungrateful, and incredulous. A
rebellious and gainsaying people. Isa. Ixv. 2.
That God should strike them with blindness,
N 3

182 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST

and that, like blind men, they should stumble
at noon-day. Deut. xxviii. 28, 29.

That the church should be small in its be-
ginning, and should afterwards increase. Eze-
kiel xvii. 22 — 24.

It was foretold that idolatry should then be
overthrown ; that this Messiah should cause the
idols to fall, and bring men to the worship of
the true God. Isa. ii. 18.

That the idol temples should be cast down,
and that in all places of the world men should
offer to God pure sacrifices, and not those of
beasts. Mai. i. 11.

That he should teach men the perfect way.

That he should reign over Jews and Gentiles.

No person has ever appeared before, or since,
who has taught any thing corresponding to
these predictions.

After so many persons who predicted his
coining, Jesus Christ came and said, I am he,
and this is the time I was to come. He came
to teach men, that they have no other enemies
but themselves ; that their passions have sepa-
rated them from God ; that he came to de-
liver them from these enemies, to give them
his grace, in order to form out of all nations
one holy church, into which he would bring
both Jews and Gentiles ; and that he would
destroy the idolatry of the one, and the super-
stition of the other.

FROM THE PROPHECIES. 183

What the prophets have foretold should come
to pass, my Apostles, said he, will shortly ac-
complish. The Jews are on the point of being
rejected ; Jerusalem shall soon be destroyed ;
the Gentiles will soon be brought to the know-
ledge of the true God, and my Apostles shall
be their instructors, after you have slain the
son, who is the heir of the vineyard.

And afterward his Apostles said plainly to
the Jews, the curse is now going to be executed
upon you. And they declared to the Gentiles,
that they were to be brought to the true know-
ledge of God.

To this all men are averse, through the natu-
ral influence of their concupiscence. Hence
this king of Jews and Gentiles was oppressed
by both, who conspired to take away his life.
All that is great in the world, the learned, the
wise, and the mighty, unite to oppose this
rising religion. Some write against it, others
condemn it, and others put to death its pro-
fessors. But in spite of all these different op-
positions, we see Jesus Christ in a very little time
reigning over them all ; destroying the Jewish
worship in Jerusalem, which was the centre of it,
and from which his church was first taken, and
idol worship in Rome, which was the centre
of it, and where his principal church was af-
terward established.

Persons of no education, or power, for such
N 4

184 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST

were the Apostles and primitive Christians,
withstood all the powers of the earth; over-
came Kings, together with the learned and the
wise, and subverted idolatry, though so firmly
established in the world. And all this was
brought to pass by the sole influence of that
word which had foretold it.

The Jews, by putting to death Jesus Christ,
that they might not acknowledge him to be the
Messiah, gave him the final mark of actually
being the Messiah. And by persisting to mis-
judge him, they became irrefragable witnesses
of him : for by their slaying him, and conti-
nuing to disown him, the prophecies were ful-
filled.

Who can do otherwise than recognise Jesus
Christ by the number of particular circum-
stances which were predicted of him ? For it
was declared,

That he should have a forerunner. Mai. iii. 1.

That he should be born an infant. Isa. ix. 6.

That he should be born in the city of Bethk-
hem ; that he should spring from the tribe of
Judah, and the family of David ; and that
he should principally appear at Jerusalem.
Mic. v. 2.

That he should blind the eyes of the wise and
learned, and preach the Gospel to the poor and

FROM THE PROPHECIES. 185

despised ; that he should open the eyes of the
blind, restore health to the diseased, and give
light to those who languished in darkness.
Isa. v. 15 — xxxv. 5— ix. 2.

That he should teach the perfect way, and be
the instructor of the Gentiles. Isa. xlii. 6.

That he should be a sacrifice for the sins of
the world. Isa. liii.

That he should be the chief and precious
corner stone. Isa. xxviii. 26.

That he should, at the same time, be a stone
of stumbling, and a rock of offence. Isa. viii.
xiv.

That the Jews should fall upon this rock.
Isa. viii. 15.

That this stone should be rejected by the
builders; that God would make it the head of
the corner, Ps. cxviii. 22. that it should grow
into a great mountain, and fill the whole earth.
Dan. ii. 35.

That thus He should be disowned, betrayed,
sold, buffeted, derided, and afflicted by a thou-
sand different methods; that they should give
him gall to drink, should pierce his hands and
his feet, should spit in his face, should kill him,
and cast lots upon his vesture. Zach. xi. 12.
Ps. Ixix. 21. Ps. xxii. 16, 18.

That he should rise again the third day from
the dead. Ps. xvi. 10, Hos. vi. 3.

186 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST

That he should ascend into Heaven, and bit
at the right hand of God. Ps. ex. 1.

That kings should, set themselves in arms
against him. Ps. ii. 2.

That sitting at the right hand of the Father,
he should triumph over all his enemies, Ps. ex.
1,2.

That the kings of the earth, and all the
people, should worship him. Isa. lx.1 0.

That the Jews should subsist as a distinct
people. Jer. xxxi. 36.

That they should wander about without
princes, without sacrifices, without an altar,
without prophets, looking for deliverance, and
not finding it. Hos. iii. 4, &c.

The Messiah was himself to produce a nu-
merous people, elect, sacred, and peculiar; to
guide, support, and lead them into a place of
rest and of holiness ; to make them holy unto
God ; to make them the temple of God ; to re-
concile them to God ; to save them from his
wrath ; to rescue them from the tyranny of
sin, which reigns so visibly over men ; to give
laws to this people ; to engrave these laws in
their hearts ; to offer himself to God for them ;
to be made a sacrifice for them ; to be at once
the spotless sacrifice, and the priest ; he was to
otFer himself, his body, and his blood, and also

FROM THE PROPHECIES. 187

to offer bread and wine to God. Jesus Christ
has done all this.

It was foretold, that he should come as a
deliverer, who should bruise Satan's head, who
should save his people from their sins ; from all
their sins. That there should be a new cove-
nant, which should be eternal, and another
priesthood, after the order of Melchisedec,
which should be everlasting. That Jesus Christ
should be powerful, mighty, and glorious, and
yet so mean as not to be acknowledged; that
he should not be taken for what he really was ;
that he should be rejected and slain ; that the
people who had denied him should be no more
his people ; that those who had been idolaters
should receive him, and trust in him ; that he
should quit Zion to reign in the very centre of
idolatrous worship ; that notwithstanding all this,
the Jews should ever continue ; that he should
arise out of Judah, when the sceptre was de-
parted from them.

Let any man consider, that from the begin-
ning of the world, either the expectation or
the worship of the Messiah continued without
interruption ; that he was promised to the first
man, immediately after his fall ; that after him
others declared that God had revealed to them,
that a Redeemer should be born, who would
save his people ; that Abraham afterwards was

188 EVIDENCES OF JESUS CHRIST

raised up to say that this Redeemer should
proceed from a son which he was to have ; that
Jacob declared, that out of his twelve children
Judah was the one from whom he should de-
scend ; that Moses and the Prophets came after
this, and predicted the time and manner of his
coming ; that they said their law was only a
preparation for that of the Messiah ; that until
his was promulgated, theirs should subsist; that
thus either theirs or his should always remain
in the world ; that it has actually so remained ;
and that at length Jesus Christ came under all
the circumstances which were foretold. Surely
this must appear astonishing.

But, it may be said, if all this was so clearly
foretold to the Jews, how came they not to
believe on him ? Or how is it they are not ex-
terminated for having resisted so clear a reve-
lation ? I reply, that both were predicted, that
they would not believe it, clear as it was, and
also that they should not be exterminated.
And nothing could be more glorious to the
Messiah ; for it was not sufficient for this to
be foretold ; but the prophecies were also pre-
^erved without the shadow of suspicion.

The prophets have interwoven particular pro-
phecies with those which relate to the Messiah ;
that the prophecies concerning Him might not
be without proof, and that the particular pro-
phecies might not be unedifying.

FROM THE PROPHECIES. 189

We have no king but Ctesar, said the Jews.
John xix. 15. Therefore Jesus Christ was the
Messiah^ since they had no king hut a stranger,
and chose to have no other.

Daniel's seventy weeks are rendered disput-
able, as to the time of their beginning, by the
phraseology of the prophecy; and, as to their
expiration, by the differences among chrono-
logists. And yet all this variety amounts to
no more than two hundred years.

The same prophecies which represent Jesus
Christ as in poverty, represent him as the master
of the world.

Those prophecies which express the time of
our Lord's coming, only speak of him as the
ruler of the Gentiles, and as a sufferer; not, as
in the clouds, nor as a judge ; and those which
represent him in glory, arid judging the nations,
specify no particular period.

When the scriptures speak of the Messiah as
great arid glorious, it is evident they refer to
his judging the world, and not to his redeem-
ing it.

190

XVI.

VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST.

XF we are not to give credit to the Apostles,
we must suppose them either to be deceived or
deceivers. But neither could have easily been
the case. As to the first, it was impossible
they should be mistaken in taking a man to be
NT- —risen from the dead; and as to the other, the
supposition of their being impostors is extremely
absurd. Let us only examine it at length. Let
us imagine these twelve men meeting together
after the death of Jesus Christ, arid combining
to fabricate a report of his resurrection. By
this they must set all powers against them.
The heart of man has a strange inclination to
inconstancy and change, to be drawn aside by
promises and rewards. Now should only one of
them be influenced by all these allurements, or
even by imprisonment, tortures, or death itself,
they had all been undone. Pursue this suppo-
sition.

While Jesus Christ continued with them, he
might have encouraged them : but afterward, if
he did not really appear to them, who was it
that made them proceed ?

VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST. 19 i

The style of the gospel is admirable in an
infinite number of views ; and in this amongst
others, that it contains no invectives, on the
part of the historians, against Judas, or Pilate,
nor against any of the enemies, or the murder-
ers of Jesus Christ.

Had this modesty of the evangelical his-
torians been affected, (along with many other
characters of the same excellent temper,) and
had they affected it only in order to be taken
notice of; if they had not ventured to remark
it themselves, they would not have failed to
procure friends who should notice it to their
advantage. But as they acted without any
affectation, and from motives altogether dis-
interested, they never made any person observe
it. Indeed, I do not know that it has been
remarked to this day, which shows the simpli-
city of their whole conduct in the affair.

Jesus Christ performed miracles, and his
Apostles after him, and many were also wrought
by the primitive Christians ; because as the
prophecies were not yet fully accomplished,
and were to be accomplished by them, nothing
but miracles would have been a sufficient evi-
dence of their commission. It was foretold,
that the Messiah should convert the Gentile
nations. But how was this prophecy to be
fulfilled, if the Gentiles were not converted;

192 VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST.

and how were they to be converted to the
Messiah, without beholding this final effect of
the prophecies that proved him ? Till, there-
fore, he had died, and was risen again, and the
Gentiles were converted, all was not fulfilled.
So that miracles were necessary through the
whole of this period. But there is now no
necessity for any more to establish the truth of
the Christian Religion, for the prophecies which
are accomplished remain a perpetual miracle.

The present condition of the Jews is also a
striking evidence of our Religion. It is asto-
nishing to see this people subsisting during so
long a course of years, and yet to see them al-
ways miserable ; it being necessary as an evi-
dence of Jesus Christ, both that they should
subsist, to be his witnesses, and should be mi-
serable, as his cmcifiers. And though to sub-
sist, and to be miserable, are in some respects
contradictory, yet the Jews do subsist, notwith-
standing their misery.

But were they not almost in the same con-
dition in the time of the captivity ? No : The
sceptre was not interrupted by their captivity
in Babylon ; because their return was promised
and foretold. For lest they should imagine the
sceptre to be departed from Judah, when Nabu-
chodonosor carried away the people, they were
beforehand assured, that they should only re-

VARIOUS PROOFS 0£ JESUS CHRIST. 193

main there for a short period, and should cer-
tainly be brought back. They were always
consoled by the prophets, and their kings were
continued. But the second destruction is with-
out any promise of restoration ; without pro
phets, without kings, without comfort, without
hope ; the sceptre is now departed from them
for ever.

It was scarcely to be considered as being in
a state of captivity, to be in it with an assur-
ance of deliverance in seventy years. But they
are, now, without any such hope.

God had promised them, that though they
should be scattered to the very extremities of
the earth, yet if they were faithful to his law,
he would gather them again. They are now
faithful to it, and yet remain under oppression.
It follows, therefore, that the Messiah is come,
and that the law, which contained these pro-
mises, has been annulled by the establishment
of another.

If the Jews had all been converted by Jesus
Christ, we should hare none but suspected wit-
nesses ; and had they been entirely destroyed,
we should have no witnesses at alL

The Jews rejected Christ, but not all of
them ; so now saints receive him, and not those
who are carnal. And this is so far from di-

O

194 VARIOUS PROOFS OF JESUS CHRIST.-

minishing his glory, that it gives the last touch
which perfects it.

The argument which the Jews employ, and
the only one we find insisted on in their
writings, in the Talmud, and by the Rabbins,
is, that Jesus Christ did not subdue the nations
by force of arms. Jesus Christ, say they, was
killed, he was overcome; he did not conquer
the Gentiles by his power ; he has not given
us their spoils -, he has not enriched us. And
is this all they have to say ? It is in this, he ap-
pears so amiable to me : I would not have such
a Messiah as they figure to themselves.

How delightful it is to behold, with the eye of
faith, Darius, Cyrus, Alexander, the Romans,
Pompey, and Herod, all conspiring, without
knowing it, to promote the glory of the gospel.

XVIL

AGAINST MAHOMET.

1 HE Mahometan religion has for its founda-
tion the Alcoran, and Mahomet. But this pro-

MAHOMET. 195

phet, who was to be the last expectation of
mankind,- has he ever been foretold ? Or, what
token has he to show, more than any other man
who may please to call himself a prophet ? What
miracles does he himself tell us that he wrought ?
What mysteries did he teach, even according
to his own account? What morality? What
felicity ?

Mahomet is altogether without authority : his
reasons, therefore, ought to be very cogent, as
they are^to rest entirely on their own forcev

Suppose two persons should both talk of
things apparently mean ; but that the dis-
courses of one should have a two-fold sense,
understood by his own followers, while those
of the other had but one meaning only : If a
person who was not in the secret, should hear
them speak in this manner, he would be in-
clined to pass the same judgment on both.
But if afterwards, in the remaining part of
their conversation, the one should speak of
angelical things, and the other should talk of
nothing but what was base and vulgar, and
even nonsensical, — he must conclude, that the
one spake mysteriously, and not the other j the
one having shown that he is incapable of ab-
surdity, and capable of being mysterious ; and
the other, that he is incapable of being mys-
terious, but is capable of being absurd,
o Q-

196 MAHOMET.

It is not because there is something obscure
in Mahomet's doctrine, that may pass for a
mysterious meaning, that I would have it de-
cided on ; but by those things which are plain,
as his Paradise, and the like. In these he is
ridiculous. But it is not so with the scriptures.
They have their obscurities ; but then in other
parts they are admirably clear, and their pro-
phecies have been evidently accomplished. The
case, therefore, is totally different, We are not
to compare and confound things which resemble
each other only in obscurity, and not in having
plain and evident passages, which when they
are divine, are such as oblige us to reverence
the obscurities themselves.

The Alcoran says, St. Matthew was a good
man. Therefore Mahomet was a false prophet, —
either in calling wicked men good, or in dis-
believing what these good men declared of
Jesus Christ.

Any man can do what Mahomet did ; for he
wrought no miracle, his coming was never fore-
told. But what Jesus Christ has done, no other
can do.

Mahomet established his religion by killing-
others — Jesus Christ by making his followers
lay down their own lives ; Mahomet, by for-
bidding his law. to be read— Jesus Christ by

GOD'S DESIGN. 197

commanding us to read. In a word, the two
were so opposite, that if Mahomet took the way,
in human probability, to succeed; Jesus Christ
took the way, humanly speaking, to be dis-
appointed. And hence, instead of concluding,
that because Mahomet succeeded, Jesus Christ
might in like manner have succeeded ; we ought
to infer, that since Mahomet has succeeded,
Christianity must have inevitably perished, if it
had not been supported by a power altogether
divine.

XVIII.

THE DESIGN OF GOD IN CONCEALING HIMSELF

FROM SOME, AND REVEALING HIMSELF

TO OTHERS.

JLT was the purpose of God, to redeem man-
kind, and to open the way of salvation to those
who should seek it. But men have rendered
themselves so unworthy of it, that he justly
denies to some, on account of their obduracy,
that unmerited mercy which he grants to
others. If he thought fit to surmount the
obstinacy of the most hardened, he could easily
effect it, by revealing himself so manifestly to

03

198 GOD'S DESIGN IN

them, as to make it impossible for them to
doubt the reality of his existence. And thus
lie will appear, at the last day, in awful thunder,
and such a wreck of nature, that the most
blind shall be forced to behold him.

But this \vas - not the way in which he chose
to appear at his milder coming. Because,
there being so many among mankind, who were
rendering themselves unworthy of his com-
passion, he determined to leave them destitute
of a blessing which they did not desire. It was
not, therefore, consistent that he should appear in
a manner manifestly divine, and capable of con^
vincing all men irresistibly : nor, on the other
hand, wrould it have been right to have been
so perfectly concealed, as not to be discoverable
by those who sought him sincerely. His de-
sign was to render himself perfectly knowable
to the latter; and thus intending to reveal
himself to those, who sought him with their
whole heart, and to conceal himself from those,
who shunned him with their whole heart,— he
so tempered the knowledge of himself, as to,
give marks that were visible to those who
sought him, and obscure to those who sought
him not.

There is light enough for those whose sincere
desire is to see j and darkness enough for those
who are of a contrary disposition.

There is brightness enough to illuminate

PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS. 199

1iie elect*; and enough of obscurity to humble
them.

There is obscurity enough to blind the re-
probate; and brightness enough to condemn
them, and to leave them without excuse.

If the world subsisted, merely to inform men
of the being of God ; his divinity would shine
through it, on every side, in an undeniable
manner, But as it subsists only by Jesus
Christ, and for Jesus Christ, and to inform men
of their corruption and redemption, every thing
beams forth with evidence of these important
facts. For all that we can behold neither de-
notes the total exclusion, nor the manifest pre-
sence of God, but the presence of a God who
hideth himself. Every thing bears this cha-
racter.

If nothing of God had ever appeared, this
continual privation would have been equivocal ;
and might have been equally explained by the
non-existence of a Deity, and by the unwor-
thiness of mankind to know any thing of Him.
But as he in some instances appears, though
not continually, — this takes away the ambiguity.
If he has appeared once, he exists for ever.
So that we can come to no other conclusion than
this, that there is a God, and that men are un-
worthy to know Him.

o 4

200 COD'S DESIGN IN

The divine intention is more to produce a
perfection of the will, than of the understand-
ing ; but a perfect clearness would only be of
use to the understanding, and would be hurtful
to the will.

If there were no darkness, men would not
feel their depravity ; and were there no light,
they would have no hope of a remedy. So that
it is not only just, but advantageous to us, that
God should conceal himself in part, and dis-
cover himself in part ; since it is, equally, dan-
gerous for men to know God without knowing
their own misery,-^and to know their own misery,
without any knowledge of God.

Every thing informs man of his own con-
dition ; but this ought to be rightly understood.
For God does not either completely reveal
himself, nor remain altogether concealed. But
it is most certainly true, that he conceals him-
self from those who tempt him, and reveals
himself to those who seek him. For though
men are altogether unworthy of God, yet at
the same time they are capable of enjoying
Him. They are unworthy 'of communion with
him by their corruption; but are capablv> of it
by their original nature.

There is no object on earth, which does not
proclaim either the misery of man, or the mercy
of God; either the impotence of man, witiiout

PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS. 201

God, or the power of man, with the assistance
of God.

The whole universe teaches man, either that
he is depraved, or that he is redeemed. Every
thing informs him either of his greatness, or
his misery. The dereliction of God, we may
remark in the Pagans : his protection appears
in the Jews.

All things work together for good to the
elect ; even the obscurities of scripture, which
they revere on account of that divine clearness
which they understand. And all things work
together for evil to the reprobate, not except-
ing the divine clearness of scripture, which they
blaspheme, on account of the obscurities which
they do not comprehend.

If Jesus Christ had only come for the pur-
pose of sanctification, the whole of scripture,
and every thing else, would have been directed
to this end ; and it would have been very easy
to convince unbelievers. But since he came,
as Isaiah speaks, both for a sanctuary and a
rock of offence, (Isa. viii. 14.) it is impossible
for us to conquer their perverseness. But this
makes nothing against us, because we affirm
that all the divine conduct conveys no con-
viction to obstinate minds, and such as do not
sincerely seek the truth.

GOD'S DESIGN IN

Jesus Christ is come, that those who sec not,
may sec ; and that those who see, may be made
blind. He is come to heal the sick, and let the
healthy die : to call sinners to repentance and
justification, and to leave those in their sins,
who think themselves righteous ; to Jill the
hungry with good things, and to send the rich
empty away*

What do the prophets affirm of Jesus Christ ?
That he shall appear, evidently, to be God ? No
— But that he is a God veiled to the eye of
sense ; that he shall be unknown ; that men will
not think it is him -y that he shall be a stone of
stumbling against which many shall fall ; &c.

It was to make the Messiah known to the
good, and unknown to the wicked, that God
caused him to be so foretold. For had the
manner of his appearance been clearly de-
scribed, there would not have been any ob-
scurity, even to wicked men, And if the time
had been obscurely predicted, even good men
would have felt themselves in darkness. For
the integrity of their heart could not have
taught them, for example, that a o signified
six hundred years. The time, therefore, was
clearly declared; and the manner only in
figure.

By this means the wicked, apprehending
that the blessings promised were temporal, were

PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS. 203

deceived, notwithstanding the clear predictions
of the time ; while the righteous were not
deceived -, for the sense in which the promised
blessings are understood, depends on the heart,
which calls that good which it loves ; but the
interpretation of the promised time does not
depend on the heart. And thus the clear pre-
diction of the time, and the obscure prediction
of the blessings, could mislead none but the
wicked.

What must the Messiah have been, seeing
that in him the sceptre was eternally to con-
tinue with Judah ; and that, at his coming, the
sceptre was to be taken from Judah f That
seeing, they should not see; and understanding,
they should not understand. Isa. vi. 9. Nothing
could have been more complete.

Instead of complaining that God is concealed,
we ought to give him thanks that he has so
clearly revealed himself; and to give him thanks
also, that he still hides himself from the wise
and the proud, who are unworthy to know so
holy a God.

The genealogy of Jesus Christ in the Old
Testament, is intermixed with so many things
of little consequence, that we can scarcely
distinguish it, Had Moses kept no other re-

e>()4 GOD'S DESIGN IN

gister but that of the ancestors of Jesus Christ,
it would have been too conspicuous ; but even
now, by careful inspection, we may trace it in
Thamar, Ruth, &c.

The most apparent defects are of force with
persons of discernment. For instance : the two
genealogies of St. Matthew and St. Luke ; it
being manifest that they could not have been
drawn out in concert.

Let not men, therefore, reproach us with want
of light : for we ourselves profess to want it. But
let them own the truth of religion in its very
obscurity, in the imperfection of the light which
surrounds us, and that indifference which is in
men about knowing it.

Were there but one religion, God would be
too conspicuous : and so likewise, if there were
martyrs in no other religion than our own.

Jesus Christ, to leave the impious in their
blindness, never told them that he was not of
Nazareth, or that he was not the son of
Joseph.

As Jesus Christ remained unknown amongst
men, so truth remains amongst other opinions,
undistinguished by their external appearance,
the Eucharist amidst common bread.

PARTIAL MANIFESTATIONS.

If the mercy of God be so great as savingly
to instruct us, even while he hides himself from
us, what light may we not expect, when he shall
please to unveil his perfections ?

We can understand nothing of the works of
God, if we do not take it as a principle, that he
blinds some while he illuminates others.

XIX.

THAT TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS, HAVE
BUT ONE AND THE SAME RELIGION.

X HE Jewish Religion SEEMS essentially to
consist in the paternity of Abraham, the rite
of circumcision, the sacrifices, the ceremonies,
the ark, the temple at Jerusalem, and, in short,
in the law and the covenant of Moses.

I affirm, however, that it consisted in neither
of these, but in the love of God alone ; and
that God rejected every thing without this.

That God bore no manner of regard to the
carnal Israel who descended from Abraham.

That the Jews were to be punished by God
like strangers, if they provoked his displeasure.

206 TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS.

And it shall be, that if thou do at all forget the*
Lord thy God, and walk after other gods ; I tes-
tify against you this day, that ye shall surely
perish ; as t/ie nations which the Lord destroyeth
before your face, so shall ye perish. Deut. viiL
19, 20.

That strangers, if they loved God, should be
accepted by him as the Jews.

That the true Jews would ascribe all their
merit to God, and not to Abraham. Doubt-
less thou art our Father, though Abraham be
ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not :
thou, O Lord, art our Father, our Redeemer.
Isa. Ixiii. 16.

Moses himself assured them that God was no
accepter of persons. God, says he, regardeth
not persons, nor taketh rewards. Deut. x. 17-

I affirm, that the circumcision enjoined was
that of the heart. Circumcise, therefore, the
foreskin of your heart, and be no more stiff-necked.
For the Lord your God is a great God, a mighty,
and a terrible, who regardeth not persons, &c.
Deut. x. 16, 17- Jer. iv. 4.

That God promised to bestow on them this
grace. And the Lord thy God will circumcise thy
heart, and the heart of thy seed, to love the Lord
thy God with all thy heart. Deut. xxx. 6.

That the uncircumcised in heart shall be
judged of God. / will punish them which are
circumcised with the uncircumcised ; for all these

TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS. 207

nations are uncircumcised, and all the house of
Israel are uncircumcised in heart. Jer. ix. 25,
26.

I add, that circumcision was a figure, insti-
tuted to distinguish the Jews from ,all other
nations. Gen. xvii. 10. And this was the rea-
son that it was not performed in the wilderness,
because there was then no danger of their mix-
ing with strangers ; and since Jesus Christ has
come, it is no longer necessary.

That the love of God is every where enforced :
/ call lieaven and earth to record this day against
you, that I have set before you life and death,
blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that
both thou and thy seed may live ; that ilwu mayest
love the Lord thy God, and that thou mayest obey
his voice, and that thou mayest cleave unto him ;
for he is thy life. Deut. xxx. 19, 20.

It is said, that the Jews, for want of this love
of God, should be rejected on account of their
crimes, and the Gentiles admitted in their stead.
/ will hide my face from them, I will see what
their end shall be ; for they are a very froward
generation, children in whom is no faith. They
have moved me to jealousy with that which is not
God, they have provoked me to anger with their
vanities, and I will move them to jealousy with
those which are not a people, I will provoke them
to anger with a foolish nation, Deut. xxxii.
20,21.

208 TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS.

That temporal blessings are fallacious, and
that the only true good is to be united to God.
Ps. Ixxiii. 27-

That their festivals and sacrifices were dis-
pleasing to God. Isa. Ixvi. 3. Jer. vi. 20. Not
only those of the wicked Jews; but He even took
no pleasure in those of the good, as appears from
the fiftieth Psalm, where, before the wicked are
peculiarly addressed in those words, To the
wicked God saith, 8{c. v. 16, it is declared that
God has no regard to the sacrifices or the blood
of beasts.

That the offerings of the Gentiles should be
accepted by God, and that he should withdraw
his approbation from the offerings of the Jews,
Mai. i. 11. Hos. vi. 6.

That God would make a new covenant by
the Messiah, and that the old covenant should
be annulled. Jer. xxxi. 31.

That the old things should be forgotten. Isa.
xliii. 18.

That the ark should no more come to mind.
Jer. iii. 16.

That the temple should be rejected. Jer. vii. 14.
That the sacrifices should be abolished, and
purer sacrifices established. Mai. i. 10.

That the Aaronical order of priesthood should
be set aside, and the order of Melchisedec intro-
duced by the Messiah, and that this priesthood
should be everlasting. Ps. ex. 4.

TRUE CHRISTIANS AND TRUE JEWS. 209

That Jerusalem should be cast off, and a new
name given to the people, which should be more
excellent than that of Jews, and of eternal dura-
tion. Isa. vi. 11, 12 — Ivi. 3, 5.

That the Jews should be without prophets,
without kings, without sacrifices, and without an
altar; and should nevertheless subsist as a dis-
tinct people. Hos. iii. 4. Jer. xxxi. 37.

XX.

THAT GOD CANNOT BE SAVINGLY KNOWN BUT
THROUGH JESUS CHRIST.

JVlOST of those who undertake to demonstrate
the divine Being to ungodly persons, commonly
begin with the works of nature, and they very
rarely succeed. I do not mean to dispute the
validity of these proofs, which are consecrated
by the holy scripture : they are conformable to
reason; but very often they are not suited and
proportioned to that disposition of mind which
prevails in those for whom they are intended.

For we must observe, that such discourses are
not addressed to men who have a lively faith in

P

210 SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST.

their hearts, and who immediately discern that
every thing which exists is no more than the
work of that God whom they adore. To these
all nature proclaims its author, and the heavens
declare the glory of God. But as for those in
whom this light is extinct, and in whom we
endeavour to revive it, who are destitute of faith
and charity, and who behold nothing but dark-
ness and obscurity in nature, it does not seem
the proper way to convert them, to point out to
them, as proofs on this important subject, nothing
more than the course of the moon, or the planets,
or common arguments, against which they have
constantly hardened themselves. The obduracy
of their minds renders them deaf to this voice of
nature, which has sounded continually in their
ears ; and experience shows, that so far from
convincing them by this method, nothing is so
likely to discourage them, and to make them
despair of ever finding the truth, as to undertake
to persuade them by this mode of reasoning, and
to tell them that they must clearly see the truth
of it.

It is not in this manner the scripture speaks,
which knows so much better than we do the
things which are of God. It informs us, indeed,
that the beauty of the creatures makes known
Him who is their author ; but it does not tel
us that it does this to all persons in the world.
On the contrary, it declares, that whenever they

SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST. 21 1

do it, it is not by themselves, but by that light
which God sheds abroad into the hearts of those
to whom he discovers himself by their means.
That which may be known of God, is manifest in
them; for God hath showed it to them. Rom. i. 19.
It teaches us, in general, that God is an invisible
God. Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself.
Isa. xlv. 15. And that since the corruption of
human nature, he has left men in a state of
blindness, from which they can only be deli-
vered by Jesus Christ, without whom we are cut
off from all communion with God. No man
knoweth the Father save the Son, and he to whom-
soever the Son will reveal him. Matt. xi. 27.

The Scripture also points this out to us, when
it tells us, in so many places, that those who seek
God find him; for we do not speak thus of a
thing which is evident and clear ; men do not
search after that — it discovers itself, and compels
observation.

The metaphysical proofs of a God are so very
intricate, and abstracted from the common rea-
sonings of men, that they strike them with but-
little force ; and when they do affect some, it
is only for the moment in which they discern
the demonstration; but the very next hour they
suspect they are deceived : Quod curiositate cog-
noverant superbia amiserunt.

Moreover, arguments of this kind can only

212 SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST.

lead us to a speculative knowledge of God ; and
to know him only thus, is, in fact, not to know
him at all.

The Deity of Christians is not merely a God
who is the author of geometrical truths, and of
the order of the elements : that is the divinity of
the Pagans. Nor is he merely a God who over-
rules by his providence the lives and fortunes of
men, in order to give those who worship him a
happy series of years : this was the portion of
the Jews. But the -God of Abraham and of
Jacob, the God of the Christians, is a God of
love and consolation ; a God who fills the soul
and the heart which he possesses ; gives it an
inward feeling of its own misery, and of his in-
finite mercy ; unites himself to the soul, reple-
nishing it with humility and joy, with confidence
and love; and renders it incapable of fixing on
any thing but himself, as its ultimate object.

The God of the Christians is a God who makes
the soul perceive that he is its only good; that
its only rest is in him ; that it can have no joy
but in his love ; and at the same time he causes
it to abhor those obstacles, which hinder and
withhold it from loving him with all its strength.
Self-love and concupiscence, which do this, are
insupportable to it. God makes it feel that there
is this self-love deeply rooted within it, and that
He alone can remove it.

This it is to know God a$ a Christian. But to

SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST.

know him in this manner, we must, at the same
time, know our own misery and un worthiness,
and the need we have of a mediator, in order
to draw nigh to God, and unite ourselves to
him. We must never separate these truths,
because either by itself is not only unprofitable
but hurtful. The knowledge of God, without
the knowledge of our own misery, produces
pride. The knowledge of our own misery, with-
out the knowledge of Jesus Christ, produces
despair. But the knowledge of Jesus Christ
exempts us both from pride and despair; because
in him we see God, our own misery, and the
only way of recovery from it.

We may know God without knowing our own
miseries, or our own miseries without knowing
God ; or we may know both, without knowing
the means of deliverance from the miseries which
oppress us. But we cannot know Jesus Christ
without at the same time knowing God, our
own miseries, and the remedy for them : because
Jesus Christ is not only God, but he is God the
healer of our miseries.

Thus all who seek God without Jesus Christ,
find no light which can afford tl^em satisfaction,
or be really profitable to them. For either they
do not go far enough to know that there is a
God ; or if they do, it is of no use to them,
because they frame to themselves a way of corn.*
municating without a mediator, with that God

P3

014 SALVATION THROUGH CHRIST.

whom they have discovered without a mediator:
so that they either fall into atheism, or deism,
two things which the Christian religion almost,
equally abhors.

We ought, therefore, wholly to direct our in-
quiries to the knowledge of Jesus Christ, since
it is by him alone that we can hope to know
God, in a manner that shall be really advan-
tageous ta us.

He is the true God to us men; that is, to
miserable and sinful creatures: he is the centre
of all, and the object of all. He who knows
not him, knows nothing either in the order of
the world, or in himself. For not only do we
know nothing of God, but by Jesus Christ ; but
we know nothing of ourselves also, but by Jesus
Christ alone.

Without Jesus Christ man must remain in
vice and in misery : with Jesus Christ man is
released from vice, and from misery also. In
him is all our happiness, our virtue, our life, our
light, our hope -, and out of him there is nothing
but vice, misery, darkness, despair ; nothing but
confusion appears in the nature of God, or in
the nature of man.

CONTRARIETIES IN MA,N,

XXI.

THE SURPRISING CONTRARIETIES IN THE NA-
TURE OF MAN, WITH REGARD TO TRUTH f
HAPPINESS, AND VARIOUS OTHER THINGS.

IN OTHING is more astonishing in the nature
of man, than the contrarieties which are observ-
able in him, with regard to every subject. He
is made for the knowledge of truth , he ardently
desires, and pursues it \ and yet, when he en-
deavours to lay hold on it, he so dazzles and
confounds himself, that he makes it doubtful
whether he has actually attained it. This gave
rise to the two sects, of Pyrrhonians, and Pog-
n^atists; of which one endeavoured utterly to
deprive men of all knowledge of truth ; while
the other endeavoured infallibly to assure him
pf it : but each with reasons so improbable, that
they only increase our confusion and perplexity,
as long as we continue without any other light
than that which we find in ourselves.

The principal arguments of the Pyrrhonians,
or Sceptics, are as follow. That we have no
r- certainty of the truth of any principles
P4

216 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN.

(if we except faith and revelation) than, that
we naturally feel them within ourselves. But
this natural perception of them is no convincing
evidence of their truth ; because, since without
faith we have no assurance whether man was
created by a good God, or by some evil Daemon;
whether he has existed from eternity, or been
the offspring of chance. It may be doubted
whether these principles which have been given
us are true, or false, or uncertain; this depending
on the nature of our origin. Further, that no
person can tell, except by faith, whether he is
asleep or awake ; because in our sleep we as
strongly fancy ourselves to be awake as when
we really are so : we imagine that we see space,
figure, and motion : we perceive the time pass
away; we calculate it; in short, we act as if we
were awake. Therefore, as by our own confes-
sion, one half of our life is spent in sleep, during
which, whatever we may suppose, we have no
notion of truth, all our ideas being mere illu-
sions, who can tell but the other half of our life,
in which wTe think ourselves awake, is not also
a sleep, a little different from the former, from
which we awake when we think ourselves asleep,
as we sometimes dream that wre dream, heaping
one reverie upon another.

I leave the declamations of the same sect
against the impressions of custom, education,

CONTRARIETIES IN MAN. 2 17

manners, countries, and other such things which
govern the greatest part of mankind, who form
their opinions on no other foundation.

The only fort of the Dogmatists is this, that,
if we speak honestly and sincerely, no man can
doubt of natural principles. We have a know-
ledge of truth, say they, not only by reasoning,
but by intuition, and by a clear and vivid intel-
ligence ; and it is in this way that we attain our
knowledge of first principles. It is therefore in
vain for reason, which has no share in producing
them, to attempt to attack them. The Sceptics,
who make this their object, are labouring totally
in vain. We know when we are awake, how-
ever unable we may be to demonstrate it by
reasoning. This inability shows nothing more
than the feebleness of our rational powers, but
not the uncertainty of all our knowledge, as
they pretend.. For the knowledge of first prin-
ciples, as, for instance, that there are such things
as space, time, motion, number, matter, is as
certain as any with which our reasonings furnish
us. Nay, it is upon this knowledge by percep-
tion and intuition that reason must rest, and
found all its procedures. I perceive that there
are three dimensions in space, and that number
is infinite; and my reason afterward demon-
strates, that there are no two square numbers
assignable, one of which is exactly double the
other. We perceive principles, and we con-

218 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN.

elude propositions : and both with equal cer-
tainty, though by different ways. And it is as
ridiculous for reason to demand of perception
and intelligence, a demonstration of these first
principles, before it consents to them, as it would
be for the intellect to demand of reason, a clear
intuition of the propositions it demonstrates.
This inability, therefore, can only serve to
humble reason, which wants to be the judge
of every thing; but not at all to diminish our cer-
tainty, as if nothing but reason were capable of
instructing us. Would to God, that, on the
contrary, we had no occasion for it at all, and
that we knew every thing by instinct and intui-
tion. But nature has denied us this favour, and
allows us but little knowledge of this sort ; all
the rest we must acquire by reasoning.

Here then is open war among men. We must
all enlist on one side or the other; for he that
thinks to stand neuter is most effectually a
Pyrrhonian : this neutrality is the very essence
cf Pyrrhonism ; he who is not against them,
must be in a superlative manner for them. What
shall a man do in this situation? Shall he doubt
of every thing ? Shall he doubt whether he is
awake, whether another pinches him or burns
him ? Shall he doubt whether he doubts ? Shall
he doubt whether he exists ? It seems impossible
to come to this; and therefore I take it for
granted, that there never was a complete and \

CONTRARIETIES IN MAN- 219

absolute Sceptic. Nature sustains the weakness
of reason, and keeps it from this degree of ex-
travagance : but shall a man say, oil the con-
trary, that he is in sure possession of truth ; he
who, if you press him ever so little, can produce
no title to belief, and is obliged to quit his hold? ^
Who shall unravel this perplexity? Nature
confutes the Pyrrhonians ; Reason, the Dogma-
tists. What will then become of thee, O man,
who art seeking the knowledge of thine own
condition, by thy natural reason? Thou canst
neither avoid both these sects, nor continue in
either !

Such is man, with regard to truth. Let us
now consider him with respect to felicity, which
he seeks with so much earnestness through the
whole of his actions: for all men desire to be
happy ; this is a rule without exception. How
different soever may be the means they employ,
all have the same end in view. That which
makes one man go to the wars, and that which
makes another stay away, is the same desire,
attended in each with different views. The will
never stirs the least step but toward this object.
It is the motive of all the actions of all men, not
excepting even those who hang and destroy
themselves.

And yet, after so many ages, no person with-
out faith has ever arrived at this point, toward

CONTRARIETIES IN MAN.

which all are continually tending. Every body
is discontented; princes, subjects, nobles, beg-
gars, the old, the young, the strong, the weak,
the learned, the ignorant, the healthy, the sick,
of all countries, of all times, of all ages, and of
all conditions.

So long, so constant, and uniform a proof,
ought fully to convince us of our own inability
to arrive at happiness by our own endeavours.
But example does not teach us ; it is never so
perfectly parallel as to be without some trifling
difference, which leads us to expect that we
shall not be deceived on the next occasion, as
we were on the last. Thus the present never
satisfying us, hope urges us on from misfortune
to misfortune, till at last it leads us to death^
the sum of misery without end.

It is truly astonishing, that there should not
be any one thing in nature which has not at
some time been looked to, to fill the place of
the last end and happiness of man ; stars, ele-
ments, plants, animals, insects, diseases, wars,
vices, crimes. Man being fallen from his na-
tural state, there is nothing so extravagant as to
be incapable of attracting him. Ever since he
lost his real good, every thing cheats him with
the appearance of it ; not excepting even the
destruction of himself, contrary as it is both to
reason and nature together.

Some have sought for happiness in authority,

CONTRARIETIES IN MAN.

others in curiosities and the sciences, and others
in pleasure. These three passions have pro-
duced three sects; and those whom we call
philosophers, have really done nothing else but
follow one of the three. Such amongst them
as approached nearest to the truth, considered,
that the universal good which all men desire,
and in which each should have a portion, could
not consist in any peculiar thing which can be
in the possession of one person alone, and
which, if it were divided, would more grieve
him who might possess it, for want of the part
he has not, than it could gratify him by the
enjoyment of the part which he has. They saw
that the true good must be something which all
may possess at once, without diminution or
envy; and which no man can be deprived of
against his will. They understood this; but
they were unable to find it; and instead of
solid and substantial good, they at last em-
braced the empty shadow of a chimerical
virtue.

Our instinct makes us feel that we ought to
seek our happiness within ourselves. Our pas-
sions hurry us abroad, even when no objects
present themselves to excite them ; and external
objects are themselves our tempters, and attract
us even when we are not thinking about them.
Therefore, though philosophers should weary
themselves with crying, Enter into ijourselves,

222 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN.

your real felicity is within you, people give them
no credit j and those who do, are the more un-
satisfied and ridiculous on that account: for
what is there more vain and ridiculous, than
that which the Stoicks call happiness, or more
false than the reasonings from which they de-
duce it?

They conclude, that what has been done once,
may always be done , and that, because the de-
sire of glory sometimes makes those who possess
it, perform actions which are praiseworthy, others
may also do the same. But those are feverish
exertions, which health cannot imitate.

The internal contest between reason and the
passions, has occasioned those who were desirous
of peace to become divided into sects. Some
were for renouncing their passions, and becom-
ing gods ; and others for renouncing their rea-
son, and becoming beasts. But neither of them
could do either the one or the other. Reason
still remains to censure the baseness and injus-
tice of the passions, and to disturb the repose of
those who gave themselves up to them : and the
passions still remain alive, even in those who
pretend to renounce them.

This then is the account of what man can
accomplish by himself and his own efforts, both
with regard to truth and to happiness. We
have an idea of truth, not to be effaced by the
Sceptic ; we have an incapacity of argument,

CONTRARIETIES IN MAN.

not to be rectified by the Dogmatist. We wish
for truth, and find nothing in ourselves but un-
certainty. We seek after happiness, and find
nothing but misery. We are incapable of ceas-
ing to wish both for happiness and truth, and
yet are incapable of procuring either certainty
or felicity. This desire is left in us, partly as a
punishment, ,and partly as an indication from
whence we are fallen.

If man was not made for God, how is it that
be can only be happy in God ? And how is he
so opposite to God ?

Man cannot tell where he is to place himself.
He is unquestionably out of his way, and feels
within himself the remains of a happy state,
from whence he is fallen, and which he is un-
able to recover. He is ever seeking after it
with earnestness, but without success, encom-
passed with impenetrable darkness.

Hence arose the disputes of the philosophers :
some taking iipon them to elevate man, by dis-
playing his greatness, and others to depress
him, by representing his misery. And what
seems more strange, is, that each party em-
ployed the argument of the other, to strengthen
its own opinion. For the misery of man may
be inferred from his greatness, and his great-
ness may be inferred from his misery. Thus

224 CONTRARIETIES IN MAN.

one sect more clearly demonstrated his misery*
by deducing it from his greatness ; and another
more forcibly demonstrated his greatness, be-
cause they inferred it from his misery. What-
ever one party adduced in proof of his great-
ness, served as an argument for the other to
demonstrate his misery; because the greater
the height from whence we .have fallen, the
greater is the calamity of having fallen, and
vice versa. So that each became uppermost
by turns, revolving in an endless circle of
dispute; for it is certain, that the greater the
degree of light men enjoy, the more will they
discern in man, both of misery and of great-
ness. In a word, man knows himself to be
miserable ; he is therefore miserable, because
he knows it : but he is likewise eminently .great,
because he is conscious of his misery.

What a chimaera then is man! What a
novelty ! What a chaos ! What a subject of
contradiction ! A judge of every thing, and
yet a feeble worm of the earth ; the depository
of truth, and yet a mere heap of uncertainty ;
the glory and the outcast of the universe. If
he boasts, I humble him ; if he humbles him-
self, I boast of him ; and always contradict
him, till he is brought to comprehend that he
is an incomprehensible monster.

XXII.

THE GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MANl

JL HE first thing which offers itself to man,
when he reflects on himself, is his body : that
is to say 3 a certain portion of matter which is
appropriated to him. But in order to under-
stand what this is, he must compare it with all
that is "above him, or below him, in order to
determine its just bounds.

Let him not therefore content himself with
the sight of those objects which immediately
surround him. Letjiim contemplate all nature,
in its noble and perfect majesty. Let him
consider that glorious luxuriancy, which is set
as an eternal lamp to enlighten the universe.
Let him consider that this earth is only a point,
compared with the vast circuit which that
luminary describes. And let him remark with
astonishment, that this vast circuit itself is but
a point, compared with that of the stars which
revolve in the firmament. But if his sight be
limited here, let his imagination go further
still. It will sooner be weary with conceiving,
than nature with supplying his conceptions,

Q

226 GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN.

All that we see of the universe, is no more
than an imperceptible trait in the ample bosom
of nature. No idea can reach the extent of her
space. Let us swell our conceptions as much as
we will, we bring forth nothing but atoms, in
comparison with the reality of things. This is
an infinite sphere, the centre of which is every
where, and the circumference no where. In a
word, it is one of the greatest sensible cha-
racters of the omnipotence of God, that our
imagination is lost in the thought.

When man returns again to himself, let
him consider what he is, compared with the
whole that exists. Let him look on himself as
wandering in this bye-corner of nature ; and
from what he sees of this little dungeon, in
which he is lodged, that is to say, this world,
let him learn to estimate the earth, its king-
doms, its cities, and himself, at their proper
value.

What is one man in this infinity of being ?
Who can perceive him ? But to show him
another prodigy no less astonishing, let him
look into what appears to him the minutest of
objects. Let a mite, for instance, show him
in its little diminutive body, parts incompar
rably more minute; legs with joints, veins in
those legs, blood in. those veins, humours in
that blood, drops in those humours, vapours in
those drops. Let him divide these vapours

GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN.

till his powers and his conceptions are ex-
hausted, and let the last particle which he has
imagined, be the subject of our discourse.
He will probably suppose, that this is the ulti-
mate minutia in nature: but even in this I
will show him a new abyss. I will delineate
to him not only the visible universe, but all
that he is able to conceive in the immensity of
nature, in the circumference of that imper-
ceptible atom. Here let him behold an infinity
of worlds, each with its firmament, lis planets,
its earth, in the same proportion as in the
visible world, and on this earth other animals,
and at length mites again^ in which he shall
also find what he found in the first, and others
again in them, without end or cessation. Let
him lose himself in these wonders, as sur-
prising by their minuteness, as the former by
their extent. And who will not be surprised
-to consider, that his body, which was just now
imperceptible in the universe, which universe
itself w^as imperceptible in the bosom of uni-
versal being, should now become a colossus, a
world, or rather an universe, compared with
that ultimate minuteness, to which we can never
arrive.

He that shall reflect on himself thus, will,
no doubt, be affrighted to find himself, as it
were suspended, as to the portion of matter al-
lotted him, between the two abysses of infinity

228 GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN.

and nothing, from which he is equally re-
moved. He will tremble at the sight of these
wonders ; and I think that his curiosity chang-
ing into admiration, he will be more inclined
to contemplate them in silence, than to in-
vestigate them with presumption.

For, after all, what is man in nature ? A
nothing before infinity, an universe before no-
thing ; a medium between the two. He is in-
finitely distant from both extremes, and his
being is no less distant from that nothing from
which he was taken, than from that infinity in
which he is swallowed up.

His understanding holds the same rank in
the order of intelligent beings, as his body in
the material system ; and all that it can do is
only to discern some appearances of the middle
of things, under perpetual despair of compre-
hending either their beginning or their end.
All things have arisen from nothing, and are
tending to infinity. Who can follow such an
astonishing progress ? None but the author of
these wonders is abie to comprehend them.

This middle state betwixt two extremes, is
common to all our faculties. Our senses can
bear nothing extreme : too loud a sound makes
us deaf; too strong a light makes us blind ; too
great a distance, or too great nearness, alike
prevent us fiorn seeing; too much prolixity, or

GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. £29

too much brevity, render a discourse obscure;
too much pleasure incommodes us; too much
uniformity of sound disgusts us. We are not
capable of feeling either the most intense heat,
or the most extreme cold. Any qualities in ex-
cess are inimical to us, and not perceivable ;
we do not fed, we only suffer them. Child-
hood and old age alike incapacitate the mind;
too much or too little food disturbs it in its
actions ; too much or too little instruction ren-
ders it stupid. Things in extreme are to us as
if they were not, and we are as nothing with
respect to them : either we escape them, or
they escape us.

This is our real condition. This confines all
our attainments within certain limits, which we
never pass ; incapable both of knowing every
thing, and of being ignorant of every thing.
We are placed on a wide medium, always un-
certain, and floating between ignorance and
knowledge ; and if we endeavour to go further*
the object we have in view grows unsteady,
escapes our hold, hides itself from us, and va-
nishes in an eternal flight, which nothing can
restrain.

This is our natural condition, and yet that
which is the most opposite to our inclination.
We burn with a desire to search into every
thing, and to build a tower which shall reacix
to infinity ; but soon the whole edifice crumbles

Q 3

230 GREATNESS OF MAN.

to pieces, and the earth opens, and swallows
it up.

XXIII.

THE GREATNESS OF MAN.

X CAN easily conceive a man without hands,
and without feet ; and I could conceive him
too without an head, if I did not learn from
experience, that it is by means of this he
thinks. Thought, therefore, constitutes the
essence of man, without which we can have
no conception of him.

What is that in us which is sensible of plea-
sure ? Is it the hand ? Is it the arm ? Is it the
flesh? Is it the blood?— We shall find that it
must be something immaterial.

Man is so great, that his greatness appears in
his knowing himself to be miserable. A tree is
not conscious of misery. It is true, that to
know oneself to be miserable, is really to be
miserable ; but there is still something great in
a consciousness of misery. Thus all his miseries

GREATNESS OF MAN.

prove his greatness. They are the miseries of
a noble lord ; the miseries of a king that has
been dethroned.

Who thinks himself unhappy in not being a
king, except a deposed king ? Was Paidus
JEmilius unhappy in not being consul any
longer ? On the contrary, every body perceived
he was happy in having gone through that
office, because it was not a condition in which
he was always to remain. But Perseus was so
extremely miserable in not being longer a king,
because he ought always to have continued so,
that it was thought strange he could bear even
to live. Who thinks himself unhappy in hav-
ing but one mouth ? Who would not reckon
himself unfortunate in having but one eye ?
No man, perhaps, ever thought of lamenting
that he had not three eyes ; but any man would
be inconsolable for the loss of one.

We have so great an idea of the human soul,
that we cannot bear to be despised by it, or to
be without its esteem. All the happiness of
mankind consists in this esteem.

If, on the one hand, the felse glory which
men pursue is a strong proof of their misery,
and their meanness, it is, on the other hand,
an equal proof of their excellence. For what-
ever earthly possessions men have, whatever
health and accommodations they enjoy, they

Q 4

232 GREAtNESS OF MAN,

are still dissatisfied, if other men do not esteem
them. They set so high a value on the reason
of man, that whatever worldly advantages they
possess, they think themselves unhappy, if they
do not stand to advantage in the judgment of
others. This is the best situation a man can
hold. Nothing can prevent him from desiring
it ; and this is the most indelible character of
the heart of man ; insomuch that those who
think most contemptuously of mankind, and
level them with the beasts, would even be ad-
mired for so doing, and thus contradict them-
selves by their own desires. Nature, which is
stronger than all their reason, convincing them
more forcibly of the greatness of man, than
reason can do of his meanness.

Man is but a reed, and the wqakest in nature ;
but then he is a thinking reed. There is no
occasion that the whole universe should arm
itself to destroy him; a vapour, a drop of water
is sufficient to kill him. Bat should the whole
universe conspire to crush him, he would still
be more noble than that which destroys him5
because he knows that he dies ; while the uni-
verse would be insensible of its victory over
him.

Thus the whole of our dignity consists in.

thought: It is by this we are to elevate our-

? selves, and not by mere space and duration.

GREATNESS OF MAN.

Let us then labour to think well: this is the
principle of morality.

It is dangerous to show man how much he
resembles the beasts, without showing him his
greatness. It is dangerous to show him his
excellence, without showing him his meanness, „
And the greatest danger of all is, to leave him
ignorant of both. But it is highly beneficial to
him to have a knowledge of both.

Let man then set a just value on himself.
Let him love himself, because he has in him a
nature capable of good ; but let him not on
that account love the weaknesses of that nature.
Let him despise himself, because his capacity
is unfilled ; but let him not on that account
despise his natural capacity. Let him hate
himself; let him love himself. He possesses a
capacity for the knowledge of the truth, and
for happiness, bat he is not in possession of
any truth that is permanent or satisfactory.
I would therefore lead him to desire to find it,
to be ready and disengaged from his passions,
that he may follow it wherever he may meet
with it. And knowing how much his know-
ledge is obscured by his passions, I would have
him hate in himself that concupiscence, which
so biasses his judgment, that it may neither
blind him in making his choice, nor divert him
from it after it is made.

234

XXIV.

THE VANITY OF MAN.

VvE are not satisfied with the life we have
in ourselves, and in our own being; we wish
to live an imaginary life in the idea of others ;
and hence we strive to make some appearance.
We labour, incessantly, to embellish and retain
this fictitious being, while we neglect the real
one. And if we possess either tranquillity, or
generosity, or fidelity, we are anxious to make
it known, that we may attach these .virtues to
this being of the imagination. We would even
deprive ourselves of them, for the sake of being
thought to possess them, and willingly turn
cowards, to have the reputation of being valiant.
A strong mark this of the nullity of our proper
being, that we cannot be satisfied in it, without
-. the others and very often renounce it for the
other ; for) he that would not die to preserve his
honor, becomes infamous on that account.

The charm of glory is so great, that join it
to whatever you will, even to death itself, it
appears lovely.

VANITY OF MAN.

PRIDE is a counterpoise to all our miseries ;
because it either conceals them, or, if it exposes
them, it glories in the discovery.

Pride has so natural a possession of us,
amidst all our miseries and errors, that men
lose even life with joy, if they know it will be
talked of.

Vanity has so rooted itself in the heart of man,
that a scullion, a hodman, a porter, will vaunt
of himself, and wants to have his admirers.
And philosophers themselves want the same.
Those who write against glory, would have the
glory of having written well against it ; and
those who read their compositions, would have
the glory of having read them. And I who
am writing this perhaps feel the same wish ;
and perhaps those who read what I write, will
feel it likewise.

Notwithstanding a sight of all the miseries
which touch us, and seize us, as it were, by
the throat, we have still an insuperable instinct
which lifts us up.

We are so presumptuous that we desire to be
known to all the world, and even to those
who shall come after us, when we are no more ;
and we are so vain, that the esteem of five
or six persons who are round about us, is
enough to amuse and content us.

The most important thing in life is the

236 VANITY OF MAN.

choice of a profession ; and yet this is left to
mere chance. Custom makes masons, soldiers,
upholsterers, &c. He is an excellent uphol-
sterer, says one: and, oh! what fools are the
soldiers, says another ! Others, on the contrary,
cry out, there is nothing so great as the wars j
and all men are poor creatures but soldiers.
By merely hearing in our infancy some arts
commended, and others despised, we deter-
mine our choice ; for we naturally love excel-
lence, and hate imprudence. These words
affect as, and we only err in applying them.
So great is the power of custom, that there
are whole countries which consist of mecha-
nics ; and others of soldiers. Nature can never
be thus uniform. It is custom, therefore,
which does this, and carries nature along with
it. Yet, sometimes again, nature will prevail ;
and keep men under its instinct, in spite of all
custom, either good or bad.

Curiosity is nothing but vanity. For the
most part, we desire to know things merely
that we may talk of them. A man would not
undertake a voyage by sea, for the bare plea-
sure of gratifying his sight, if he was never to
speak of it, and had no hope of conversing
about it afterward.

We do not much care about bein^ esteemed

VANITY OF MAN. 237

in towns which we only pass through, but
when \ve are going to stay in them any time,
we are solicitous for it. Mow much time will
this take ? A time proportioned to our vain and
transitory stay?

A little thing comforts us, because a little
thing afflicts us.

We are never satisfied with the present. We *
anticipate the future as too slow, and, as it
were, to hasten it on ; or we recall the time
past, as too swift, in order to stop its flight.
Yvre are so imprudent, that we ramble through
these times with which we have nothing to
do, and utterly forget that which alone is our
own ; and so vain, that we dream of those
which are not, and let the only one which
subsists, pass away without reflection. This is
because the present, generally, gives us some
uneasiness ; we hide it from our sight, because
it distresses us ; and if it happen to be agree-
able, we are distressed to see it so quickly pass
away. We endeavour to retain it by means of
the future, and think about disposing of things
which are not in our power, for a time to which
we have no assurance, whatever, that we shall
ever arrive.

Let a man examine his own thoughts, and he
will always find them employed about the time

238 VANITY OF MAN,

past, or to come. We scarcely bestow a thought
upon the present ; or, if we do, it is only that
we may borrow light from it to dispose of the
future. The present is never in our view ; the
past and the present are our means, but the
future alone is our object. Thus we never
live, but we hope to live ; and being thus ever
prepaung to be happy, it is most certain we
never shall be so, if we do not aspire to some
other felicity, than can ever be enjoyed in this
life.

Our imagination so magnifies the time pre-
sent, by reflecting perpetually on it, and so
weakens the idea of eternity, by scarcely ever
thinking about it, that we make a nothing of
eternity, and an eternity of nothing. And
the root of all this is so predominant in us,
that all our reason is too weak to surmount it.

Cromwell was going to desolate all Chris-
tendom; the royal family would have been
ruined, and his own have been established in
power, but for a little particle of gravel which
fell down into his ureter. Rome itself began
to tremble under him ; but this petty grain*
which had been nothing any where else, coming
into this part, occasioned his death, the fall of
his family, and the restoration of the king.

XXV.

THE WEAKNESS OF MAN.

A HERE is nothing which astonishes me so
much as to see, that all the world are not asto-
nished at their own weakness. Men act seri-
ously, and every one follows his own course of
life, not because it is really good to follow it,
or that it is the fashion, but as if each man
knew exactly what is reason and justice.

We find ourselves deceived every moment >
and by a pleasant kind of humility we think
the fault is in ourselves, and not in the art
which we always boast of understanding. It
is fit there should be many such persons in the
world, to show that man is capable of the most
extravagant opinions, since he is capable of
believing that the weakness he feels is not
natural and inevitable, but that on the con-
trary he is naturally wise.

The weakness of human reason appears much
more in those who are ignorant of it, than in p^
those who are acquainted with it.

240 WEAKNESS OF MAN.

While we are too young, we judge amiss, and
when we are too old, we do the same. Jf we
think too little of a thing, or too much, we
turn giddy* and are unable to discover the
truth.

If a man views his own work, just after he
has finished it, he is quite prepossessed in its
favour : but if he waits too long, he scarcely
enters into the subject of it.

There is but one precise point from which
we can take a just view of a picture ; the rest
are too near, or too distant ; too high, or too
low. Perspective assigns this point in the art
of painting ; but who is able to determine it in
Truth and in Morals ?

That mistress of mistake, which we call fancy
or opinion, is so much the greater cheat, be-
cause she does not cheat constantly. She
would be an infallible rule of truth, if she were
an infallible rule of falsehood. But as she
most commonly deceives us, she gives us no
mark by which we can go, but stamps truth
and falsehood with the same impression.

This proud princess, the enemy of reason,
who is so well pleased to controul and rule over
her, in order to show how much she can govern
every thing, has established in man a second

WEAKNESS OF MAN, 241

nature, She has her happy and her unhappy,
her«ick and her healthy, her rich and her poor,
her fools and her wise ; and nothing is so
vexatious as to see that she fills her votaries
with more complete and entire satisfaction than
reason can do. The imaginary wise always
feeling quite a different degree of pleasure to
any which the truly wise can reasonably enjoy.
They look on other people with authority;
they dispute with assurance and confidence,
while the others feel modest and diffident. And
their gaiety of countenance often gives them
an advantage in the opinion of their hearers ;
so much favour do the imaginary wise find
with judges of their own description. Opinion
cannot, indeed, make fools wise ; but it makes
them contented, and so maintains the contest
with reason, which can only render its friends
miserable. The one covers them with glory,
the other with shame.

What dispenses reputation, what procures
respect and veneration to persons, to books, to
the great, but opinion? How insufficient. are all
riches in the world without its concurrence ?

Opinion disposes of every thing. It deno-
minates beauty, justice, and happiness, which
are all the world can afford. I should be very
glad to see an Italian book, of wliich I know
only the title, which is itself worth a multitude
of books. f)dla Qpinione Regina del Mundo ;

R

242 WEAKNESS OF MAN.

Of Opinion^ the Queen of the World. I sub-
scribe to this without knowing it, if there" be
no evil cloaked under this title.

There is scarcely any thing, just or unjust,
which does not change its nature, on changing
its climate. Three degrees of elevation in the
pole overturn all jurisprudence. The meridian
determines a truth, and a few years a right to
possession. Fundamental laws vary. Right has
its dates. Fine justice this, which is bounded
by a river or a mountain ! Truth on one side of
the Pyrenees, is falsehood on the other.

The art of overturning states is to discredit
established customs, by looking into their
origin, and pointing out that it was defective
in authority and justice. We ought, say you,
to go back to the primitive and fundamental
laws of the state, which unjust customs have
abolishedo This is the sure way to overset
every thing. Nothing is right in such a ba-
lance : yet the multitude lend an ear to such
discourses; they shake off the yoke as soon
as ever they begin to feel it; and the great
take advantage of it, to ruin both them, and
these curious examiners into established cus-
toms. But by a contrary fault, men think
they may do with justice, whatever is not with-
out example.

WEAKNESS OF MAN. £43

1

Set the greatest philosopher in the world
upon a plank, only a little broader than the
space he usually takes up in walking, if there
be a precipice underneath, although his reason,
may convince him he is safe, his imagination
will get the better of him. Some could not
even bear the thought, without sweating and
turning pale. I will not enumerate all the
effects such a situation might produce. Every
one knows the sight of a cat, or of a rat, or
treading upon a coal, will entirely unhinge the
reason of. some people.

Would you not say that yon magistrate,
whose venerable age commands the respect of
the whole nation, governs himself by wisdom,
pure and sublime ; that he judges of things by
their real nature, without being moved by those
trifling circumstances, which only influence the
imagination of the weak ? Behold him enter
the court where he is to administer justice ; see
him prepare with exemplary gravity for a hear-
ing— Let a counsel come in, to whom nature
has given an untunable voice, or a comical
face, if his barber has but half shaved him, or
if some accident has well splashed him, I dare
lay a wager the magistrate loses his gravity.

The soul of the greatest man living is not
so independent, but it is liable to be disturbed
by the least bustling about him. You need
not let off a cannon to break the train of his

R 2.

244 WEAKNESS OF MAN.

thought : the noise of a weather-cock, or of a
pully, will do it. Do not be surprised if you
hear him argue a little incoherently at present ;
he has a fly buzzing at his ears, and that is
enough to make him deaf to good counsel.
If you would have him informed of the truth,
you must drive away this animal, which holds
his reason in check, and discomposes that won-
derful intellect, which governs cities and king-
doms.

The wrill is one of the principal instruments
of belief; not that it produces belief, but be-
cause things appear either true or false, accord-
ing to the light in which we view them. The
will, which likes one point of view better than
>/ another, turns off the mind from considering
those qualities which it dislikes, and thus the
understanding, keeping pace with the will, it
stops to look on the appearance that pleases it,
and judging by what it sees, it insensibly regu-
lates its belief by the inclination of the will.

Diseases are another source of error. They
impair our judgment and our senses. And if
violent ones produce a sensible alteration in
them, I have no doubt but lesser ones have a
proportional effect.

Self-interest is also a wonderful instrument
for agreeably putting out our eyes. Affection
or dislike will overturn justice, How well doe?

WEAKNESS OF MAN.

a counsellor, retained with a large fee, find the
justice of the cause he is defending improve!
Yet I have known men, who, through a con-
trary fantasticalness of mind, have, in order to
avoid falling into this self-love, been guilty of
the highest injustice in the other extreme. The
sure way to lose a cause the most just in itself,
was to get it recommended, to them, by some of
their nearest relations.

Imagination often magnifies the most trifling-
objects, by giving them such a chimerical value,
that our minds are completely filled by them ;
and by an insolent temerity, it diminishes the
greatest, to make them come within our mea-
sure.

Truth and justice are two points so very
fine, that our instruments are too dull to
touch them with exactness. If they reach
them, they either slip over the point, or get
all on one side it, more near to the wrong than
the right.

It is not , merely old impressions that are
capable of misleading us. The charms of
novelty have the same power : and hence arise
all the disputes amongst men, who charge each
other either with following the false impressions

R 3

246 WEAKNESS OF MAN.

they have received from their childhood, or
with rashly running after new ones.

Who keeps the just medium ? Let him come
forward and prove it. There is no principle,
how natural soever it may be, even from our
infancy, but may be made to pass for a false
impression, either from education or of the
senses. Because, says one, you have thought
from your infancy that a vessel was empty when
you saw nothing in it, you have believed the
possibility of a vacuum. This is only a strong
illusion of your senses, strengthened by custom,
which science will correct. While others say,
on the other hand, because they have told you
in the schools that there is no such thing as a
vacuum, they have vitiated your common sense,
which easily admitted it before they made this evil
impression, which you must therefore correct, by
returning to the dictates of nature. Which then
has deceived us, our senses or our education ?

The whole employment of men is to get pro-
perty ; and yet the title by which they hold it,
has nothing for its origin, but the fancy of the
legislature. But after all they have no power
to keep possession of it in security ; a thousand
accidents may deprive them of it. It is the
same with knowledge -y a fit of sickness may
deprive us of it.

WEAKNESS OF MAN.

Man, therefore, is nothing but the subject
of indelible errors, without grace. Nothing
shows him the truth, every thing misleads him.
The two criterions of truth, reason, and the >
senses, beside being often unfaithful, impose
mutually upon each other. Our senses mis-
lead our reason by false appearances ; and
reason plays them the same trick in return, and
revenges itself upon them. The passions of
the mind discompose ther senses, and leave bad
impressions upon them. They lie, and impose
on each other.

What are our natural principles, but prin-
ciples we are used to ? In children, those they
have received from the customs of their parents,
in the same way that animals learn to run
after one another.

A different custom produces different natural /
principles. This is proved by experience. And
if there are some principles of nature indelible
by custom, there are likewise some impressions
of custom, indelible by nature. This depends
on disposition.

Parents are fearful lest the natural affection
of their children should be effaced ; what a na-
ture then is this, which is liable to be effaced ?
Custom is a second nature, which eradicate
the first. Why then is not custom calledT*a

R 4

248 MISERY OF MAN.

tural? I much fear that this nature itself is
only an original custom, as custom is a secon-
dary nature.

XXVL

THE MISERY OF MAN.

JNOTHING is more capable of making us
enter into the knowledge of human misery,
than a consideration of the real cause of that
perpetual agitation, in which men pass away
all their lives.

The soul is sent into the body, to sojourn
there a few days. She knows that this is only
the passage to a voyage for eternity, and that
she has only the short period that life endures
to prepare herself for it. The necessities of na-
ture take up the greatest part of this time ; and
but very little is left to be at her own disposal.
And yet this little which remains, so greatly
incommodes her, and so strangely perplexes
her, that she only studies how to lose it. It
is an intolerable burden to her, to be obliged

MISERY OF MAN. 249

to live with herself, and think of herself. So
that her whole care is to forget herself, and to
let this short and precious period pass away
without reflection, by amusing herself with
things that may prevent her from thinking
of it.

This is the source of all the tumultuous oc-
cupations of men, and of all that is called di-
version, or pastime ; in which their only aim in
effect is, to make the time pass away without
feeling it, or rather without feeling themselves ;
and, by wasting this small portion of life,
to avoid that bitterness and inward disgust,
which would necessarily accompany an atten-
tion to ourselves for that period. The soul
finds nothing in herself that contents her. She
sees nothing but what it distresses her to think
of. And this obliges her to look round about
her, to seek how she may lose the recollection
of her real condition, by applying herself to
external objects. Her pleasure consists in this
forgetfulness : and nothing is wanting to make
her miserable, but obliging her to see herself,
and to live with herself.

Men are charged from their infancy with the
care of their honor, of their property, and with
the property and honor of their relations and
friends. We burden them with the study of
languages, of the sciences, of exercises, and
of the arts. We load them with business, and

2 30 MISERY OF MAN.

persuade them they can never be truly happy,
except they do so and so, by their industry and
care ; that their fortune, their honor, and even
the fortune and honor of their friends, may be
safe; and that the failure of either of these
things, will render them miserable. Thus we
give them offices and employments, and harass
them from morning to night. A strange me-
thod, say you, of making them happy ! What
more could be done to render them miserable ?
Would you know what more might be done ?
Nothing else but to release them from these
cares. For then they would see themselves,
and think of themselves, and that they would
find insupportable. Hence, if they gain any
relaxation after all their toils, they toil again to
throw away their time in some sort of diversion,
which may occupy them wholly, and hide them
from themselves.

For this reason, when I have set myself to
consider the various agitations of human life,
the toil and the danger to which men expose
themselves at court, in the camp, in the pur-
suit of their ambitious pretensions, which give
birth to so much quarrelling and passion, and
to so many desperate and fatal adventures, I
have often said that all the misfortunes of men,
arise from their not knowing how to be at rest
in their closets. A person who has property
enough to support him, if he did but know how

MISERY OF MAN. £51

to dwell with himself, would never go elsewhere
for the sake of a voyage by sea, or the siege of
a city ; and if Men had no other aim, but simply
to live, they would find no occasion for such
hazardous employments.

I speak only of those who look at themselves,
without any view of religion. For it is indeed
one of the miracles of the Christian religion,
that it reconciles man to himself, by reconcil-
ing him to God ; that it makes him able to bear
the sight of himself; and renders solitude and
silence more agreeable to some persons, than
all the bustle and commerce of mankind. But
it is not by confining man to himself that it
produces these wonderful effects ; it is only by
leading him to God, and by supporting him
under the sense of his miseries, with the hope
of another life, in which he will be freed from
them for ever.

But as for those who are actuated only by
the emotions they feel in themselves, and in
their own nature, it is impossible they should
continue in that leisure, which gives them an
opportunity of considering and viewing them-
selves, without immediately falling into chagrin
and distress. Man who loves nothing but him-
self, hates nothing so much as to be alone with
himself. He seeks nothing but for himself,
and yet flies from nothing so much as himself ;
because when he sees himself, he does not find

MISERY OF MAN.

himself such as he could wish ; he only disco*
vers a heap of inevitable miseries, and a void
as to all real and solid good, which he is inca-
pable to fill.

Let a man choose what condition he will, arid
let him accumulate together all the goods and
all the gratifications which appear capable of
making any man content, yet if, notwithstand-
ing all this, he is without employment and di-
version, and has time to reflect on what he is,
this languishing felicity will soon come to an
end. He will of necessity fall into tormenting
apprehensions of what is to come, and if he
does not get something external to employ him,
he unavoidably becomes miserable.

But is not regal dignity of itself sufficiently
great to render him who possesses it happy, by
the mere view of what he is ? Is it necessary
that a king should be diverted from this, like
the common ranks of mankind? 1 see clearly
that you will make some men happy, by
diverting them from the prospect of their dp-
mestic distresses, and making them apply all
their care to become excellent dancers. But
shall we say this of a king ? Will he be more
happy by employing himself in these trifling
amusements, than in contemplating his own
grandeur ? What object more satisfactory can
you present to his mind ? Is it not doing injus-
tice to his joy, to employ his mind with the

MISERY OF MAN.

care of adjusting his steps by the cadence of a
song, or of ordering a ball with propriety, in-
stead of leaving him to enjoy repose in the con-
templation of the glory and splendour which
surround him ? Let us make the experiment :
let us leave a king all alone, without any sen-
sual gratification, without any care upon his
mind, without company, to think at leisure
upon himself; and we shall soon find that a
king who has a sight of himself, is a man full
of miseries, who feels them as much as any
other. Therefore, this is always carefully avoid-
ed, and there are always a great number of
people kept about the persons of kings, whose
business it is, to make diversions succeed after
business, and to watch all their hours of leisure,
to supply them with pleasures and sports, that
no time may be left vacant ; that is to say, they
are surrounded by people, who take a wonder-
ful deal of care that the king shall not be alone*
and in a situation to think on himself, well
knowing, that if he does this, all king as he is,
he must be miserable.

The principal thing which supports men un-
der great employments, otherwise so full of
trouble, is, that they are incessantly called off
from thinking of themselves*

Consider it well. What else is it for a man
to be a Saperintendant, a Chancellor, a Prime-
Minister, but to have a number of people flock-

MISERY OF MAN.

ing to him from all quarters, so as not to leave
him a single hour in the day, to think on him-
self? And when such men fall into disgrace,
and are banished to their country seats, though
they want neither fortune nor domestics, to mi-
nister to their wants, they do not fail to be un-
happy ; because no one now hinders them from
thinking on themselves.

Whence comes it to pass, that so many men
are delighted with gaming, or hunting, or other
diversions, which employ their whole souls ?
Not because there is in fact any happiness in
what may be acquired by the sport, or that
they imagine there is any real blessedness to be
found in the money which they may win, or in
the hare which they chase : they would not even
accept this if you were to offer it them. It is
not those gentle and easy habits which leave us
at leisure to think on our own wretched condi-
tion, that they want ; but the hurry, which di-
verts us from thinking.

Hence it is, that men are so much in love
with the noise and tumult of the world ; that a
prison is a punishment so horrible, and that
there are so few persons who can bear to be
shut up in solitude.

This then is all that men have been able to
invent, to render themselves happy. And those

MISERY OF MAN.

who amuse themselves with merely pointing out
the vanity and meanness of the diversions which
men follow, are indeed well acquainted with
one part of their miseries ; for a considerable
part it is, to be able to take pleasure in things
so base and contemptible. But they do not un-
derstand the principle which renders these mi-
serable things even necessary to men, so long
as they are uncured of that inward and natural
unhappiness, of not being able to bear the sight
of themselves. If a man were to buy a hare in
the market, it would not protect him from this,
but the chase of it may. And therefore when
we tell men, that what they seek with so much
ardour is unable to satisfy them, that there is
nothing more mean, and more vain, if they an-
swered as they would do if they thought on the
subject, there would not be any difference be-
tween us ; they would ingenuously declare, that
they propose nothing in these pursuits but a
violent and impetuous scene of action, which
may keep them from the view of themselves,
and that, therefore, they make choice of some
pleasing objects, which may charm them, and
take up all their thoughts. But they do not
answer thus, because they are ignorant of
themselves. A gentleman sincerely believes
that there is somewhat great and noble in
hunting ; he will tell you, it is a royal sport.
And it is the same with any other thing about

2,56 . MISERY OF MAN.

which the great number of men are taken up*
They imagine that there must be somewhat
real and solid in the objects themselves. When
some persuade themselves that if they could but
obtain such an office, they should afterwards
repose themselves with pleasure ; they are in-
sensible of the insatiable nature of desire. They
think they are seeking sincerely after rest, while
in fact they are seeking after nothing but dis-
quiet.

Men have one secret instinct, which prompts
them to seek abroad for employment or recre-
ation, and which proceeds from a sense of their
continual unhappiness. And they have another
secret instinct, a remain of the grandeur of
their original nature, which makes them con-
scious, that happiness in effect consists only in
repose. And from these two opposite instincts,
they form a confused design, which is hidden
even from themselves in the recesses of the
soul, which engages them to seek after repose
by means of agitation, and constantly to ima-
gine, that the satisfaction they have not will
infallibly ensue, if by surmounting certain dif-
ficulties, which they now can discern, they may
but open by that means the door to tranquillity.

Thus our life runs away. We seek rest, by
encountering some impediments, and when we
have removed them, rest itself becomes insup-
portable. For either we are ruminating on the

MISERY OF MAN. 257

miseries we feel, or on those which we fear.
And even when we see ourselves on ail sides
under shelter, disquietude, though deprived of
its authority, will yet infallibly shoot forth from
the heart, where it is naturally rooted, and fill
the mind with its poison.

Therefore, when Cineas said to Pyrrhus, who
proposed to enjoy himself with his friends, after
he should have conquered a good part of the
world, that he would do better to take his hap-
piness in advance, by beginning at once to en-
joy ease, without going in quest of it through
so much fatigue: he gave him advice, which
was indeed full of difficulty, and which was
scarcely more rational than the project of that
ambitious young prince. Each of them sup-
posed that a man could be satisfied with him-
self, and his present possessions, without filling
up the void in his heart, by imaginary expectar
tions ; which is false. Pyrrhus could never have
been happy, either before or after the conquest
of the world ; and perhaps that easy life which
his minister recommended to him, was still less
capable of giving him satisfaction, than the tu-
mult of all the battles and voyages which he
had planned in his mind.

We ought therefore to acknowledge, that
man is really so miserable, that he would dis-
quiet himself without any external cause of dis-
quiet, by the mere state alone of his natural

s

MISERY OF MAN.

conditidn ; and yet he is at the same tiniS st»
trifling and vain, that while he is full of a thou-
sand essential reasons for sorrow, the least trifle
in the world is sufficient to divert him. Inso-
ihuch, that if we seriously consider it, he seems
more to be pitied for being able to amuse him-
self with things so frivolous and mean, than for
being distressed at his own real miseries. His
diversions ate infinitely less rational than his un-
easinesses.

Whence is it that this man, who has lately
lost his only son, and who was this morning en-
tirely taken up with law-suits and litigations,
now seems to think nothing more of them ? Do
not be surprised ; he is wholly taken up with
looking which way the stag will pass, which
his dogs have been in chase of these six hours.
He cares about nothing else now, notwith-
standing all his afflictions. If you can but
make him enter into some diversion, you make
him happy for that time ; but with a false arid
imaginary happiness, not arising from the pos-
session of any real and solid good, but from a
levity of spirit, which makes him lose the me-
mory of his real calamities, to attach himself to
fnean and ridiculous objects, unworthy of his
attention, and still more unworthy of his love.
It is the joy of a sick man, of a man in a
J>hrenzy, not arising from the health, but from

MISERY OF MAN.

the disorder of his mind. It is the laugh of
folly and delusion. It is wonderful to observe
what trifling things please men in their games
and diversions. It is true, that by keeping their
minds employed, they preserve them from re-
flecting on their real evils ; but then such things
keep them employed, only because the mind
forms in them an imaginary object of delight, to
which it attaches itself.

What do you take to be the object of those
men, whom you see playing at tennis with such
application of mind, and such exertion of body ?
The pleasure of boasting to-morrow among their
friends, that they have played better than any
body else. This is the real source of their earn-
estness. And thus others again toil in their clo-
sets, for the sake of showing the learned that
they have resolved a question in algebra, hi-
therto reputed inexplicable. And many others,
foolishly enough, in my opinion, expose them-
selves to the greatest of dangers, to vaunt of
some town they have taken ; nor are there want-
ing those who kill themselves in taking notice of
all this ; not that they may grow wiser, but
merely to show that they know the vanity of it :
and these last are the most foolish of all, be-
cause they are so knowingly ; whereas we may
suppose of the rest, that they would not act as
they do, but for want of knowing better.

260 MISERY OF MAN.

One man passes away his life without uneasi-
ness, by gaming every day for a trifling stake,
that would be rendered unhappy, if you were to
give him every morning the sum which he might
win in the day, upon condition that he should
refrain from play. It will be said, perhaps,
that it is the amusement of the play which he
seeks, and not the gain. Yet if you make him
play for nothing, he will feel no eagerness about
it, and becomes dull. It is not, therefore, the
mere amusement which he seeks ; a languishing
amusement without any interest would fatigue
him : he must be allowed to heat and rouse him-
self, by imagining that he should be happy in
gaining that, which he would not accept, if it
were given him on condition of not playing;
and that he shall create an object of passion,
which shall excite his desire, his anger, his fear,
and his hope.

So that these diversions which constitute the

.

happiness of men, are not only contemptible,
but false and deceitful : that is to say, their ob-
ject is merely a phantom and delusion, which
would be incapable of occupying the mind of
man, if he had not lost the taste and perception
of real good, and were he not filled with base-
ness, vanity, levity, pride, and an infinite num-
ber of other vices ; and they only relieve us un-
der oar miseries, by creating a misery more
real, and more injurious. For such is whatever

MISERY OF MAN. 261

hinders us from thinking principally about our-
selves, and which makes us insensibly lose our
time. Without this, we should, indeed, feel dis-
satisfaction, but this dissatisfaction would lead
us to seek some more solid means of escaping
from it. But diversions deceive us, amuse us,
and lead us on heedlessly to our graves.

Mankind having no remedy against death, ig-
norance, and misery, have fancied the way to
be happy was to think nothing about them.
This is all they have been able to invent to con-
sole themselves under their calamities. But a
most miserable consolation it is, because it tends
not to the cure of the evil, but only to the con-
cealment of it for a very short time ; and be-
cause by concealing it, it hinders us from hav-
ing recourse to such means as would really cure
it. Thus, by a strange subversion of the nature
of man, he finds that disquiet, which is to him
the most sensible evil, is in one respect his
greatest good, because it may contribute, more
than any thing else, to make him seek after real
restoration ; while his diversions, which he looks
upon as his principal good, are indeed his
greatest evil, because they are of all things
those which most effectually keep him back
from seeking the remedy of his miseries. And
both the one and the other are admirable proofs,
both of the misery and corruption of man, and

S3

269 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

at the same time of his dignity. For he only
grows weary of every object, and engages in
such a multitude of pursuits, because he still
retains the idea of his lost happiness ; and not
finding it within himself, he vainly seeks it in
external things, without ever obtaining satis-
faction, because it is neither to be found in
ourselves, nor in creatures, but in God alone t

XXVII.

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

VvE are to judge of doctrine by miracles,
and of miracles by doctrine. The doctrine
shows the nature of the miracles, and the mi-
racles show the nature of the doctrine. All
this is true, and contains no contradiction.

Some miracles are certain evidences of the
truth, others are not. There must be a mark
by which we may distinguish them, or they
"would be useless. But they are not useless ;
they are fundamentally necessary.

The rule, therefore, which is given us, must
rtte such as shall not destroy the evidence which

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES, 263

real miracles afford of the truth ; which it is
the principal end of miracles to establish.

Were there no miracles ever joined to fals-
hood, they would be in themselves demonstra-
tive. If there were no rule by which we
might distinguish them, they would be useless,
and would afford us no reason for our faith.

Moses has given us one rule, which is wheu
the miracle is intended to lead men to idolatry ;
Deut. xiii. 1, 2, 3. And Jesus Christ }i$f
given us another ; There is no man (says he)
which shall do a miracle in my name, that can
lightly speak evil of me : Mark ix. 39. Whence
it follows, that whoever speaks openly against
Jesus Christ, cannot perform miracles in his
name ; therefore if he does perform any, they
are not performed in the name of Jesus Christ,
and he is therefore to be rejected. We see then
the grounds for the disbelief of miracles, to
which we are not to add any other. That in the
Old Testament is, when they turn us from God ;
and that in the New, when they turn us fcpjn
Jesus Christ.

So that immediately on the sight of a miracle,
we must either submit to it, or have some
strong reasons for the contrary. We ought to
examine whether the person who performs it,
denies God, or Jesus Christ and the church.

Every religion is false, which, as to if?
s 4

264 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

does not worship one God, as the author of all
things ; and which, as to its morality, does not
love one God alone, as the object of all
things.

Every religion which does not now acknow-
ledge Jesus Christ, is notoriously false, and
miracles would be insufficient to demonstrate
it.

The Jews had a doctrine from God, as we have
from Jesus Christ ; and that was confirmed by
miracles, and prohibitions against crediting
any workers of miracles who should teach them
a contra: y doctrine ; they were also command-
ed to have recourse to the chief priests, and to
adhere strictly to them. So that whatsoever
reasons we have now to refuse our belief to the
workers of miracles, it may seem they had like-
wise, with regard to Jesus Christ and his Apos-
tles.

Nevertheless it is most certain, that they
were highly culpable for refusing to credit
him on account of his miracles, for Jesus
Cunst declares, that if they had not seen his
miracles, they would not have been guilty.
If I had not done among them the works which
none other man did, they had not had sin. John
xv. 24.

It follows, therefore, that he judged that his
miracles were infallible proofs of his doctrine,
and that the Jews were under obligation to be-

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. 265

lieve in him. And, indeed, his miracles were
what rendered the Jews criminal in their unbe-
lief: for the arguments they might have drawn
from the scripture during the life of Jesus Christ,
would not have been fully demonstrative. We
find in them, for instance, that Moses had said,
a prophet should come, &c. but this was not
sufficient to prove that Jesus Christ was that
prophet, which was the whole question in dis-
pute. Such passages were sufficient to show,
that he might be the Messiah, and this, together
with his miracles, ought to have convinced
them that he really was so.

The prophecies alone were not sufficient as
proofs of Jesus Christ during his life : so that
they would not' have been culpable for not
believing in him before his death, if his miracles
had not been decisive. Therefore miracles are
sufficient, when we see that the doctrine is not
inconsistent, and they ought, in that case, to
be credited.

Jesus Christ has proved that he was the
Messiah, in verifying his doctrine and mission
by miracles, rather than by resting them wholly
on scripture and the prophecies.

It was by miracles that Nicodemus was per-
suaded liis doctrine was from God. We know
that thou art a teacher come from God ; for no
man can do these miracles that thou dost, except
God be with him ; John iii. 2. He did riot judge

266 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

of the miracles by the doctrine ; but of the 4$*>
trine by the miracles.

Therefore although a doctrine may be sus-
picious, as that of Jesus Christ perhaps was to
Nieoderaus, because it seemed to destroy the
traditions of the Pharisees, yet if there are plain
and undeniable miracles on the same side, th£
authority of the miracle must overbalance any
difficulty that arises in the doctrine : the reaspn
of which is this immoveable principle, that
cannot lead into error.

There seems to be a reciprocal duty
God and man. Come now and let us reasan
together* says trod by Isaiah. Isa. i. 18. And
in another place, l^hat cpuld I have done more
to my vineyard, that I have n$t done in it f
Isa. v. 4.

It is a duty men owe (p God, thajt tne7
should embrace the religion he sends tjiem ;
and God owes to men, that he should not lead
them into error.

But now they would be led into error, if
any workers of miracles should publish a false
doctrine, which did not appear visibly false to
the eye of common sense, and if a much greater
worker of miracles had not previously cautioned
them not to believe s.uch persons.

Thus if there were a division i$ $he church,
and the Arians for example, who assert they
have the authority of scripture no less thao

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. 26?

the Catholics, had performed miracles, and the
Catholics had not, men would be led into
error. For as a man who pretends to tell us
the mysteries of God, is not worthy to be
credited on his own private authority, so a
man who, in proof of his communication with
God, shall raise the dead, foretel future events,
remove mountains, heal diseases, deserves to be
believed, and it is impious not to give him
credit, provided he be not convicted of falshood
by some other person, who performs still greater
miracles.

But is not 'God said to tempt us 1 And may
he not therefore tempt us by miracles which
seem to lead into error ?

I answer, to tempt and to lead into €iror, are
very different things, God tempts ; but he
never leads into error. To tempt is only to pre-
sent the occasion ; which imposes no necessity
on our belief: to lead into error, is to put a
man under a necessity of embracing, and re-
garding a falshood. This is what God cannot
do, and yet what lie would do, if, in a question
which is obscure, he permitted a miracle to be
wrought on the erroneous side.

From this we must conclude, that it is im-
possible for a man concealing a wicked doctrine,
and representing it as good, by pretending to
conformity with God and the church, to work
a miracle, in order insensibly to insinuate false

268 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

and erroneous opinions. This cannot happen ;
and still less can it happen, that God, who
knows all hearts, should work miracles in favour
of such a deceiver.

There is a great difference between a man who
is not for Jesus Christ, and declares it; and one
who is not for Jesus Christ, but makes a pretence
of being for him. The former may possibly work
miracles, but not the latter ; because it is plain
of the one, that he is acting in opposition to the
truth, but it is not so of the other ; and thus the
nature of miracles is more clear.

Miracles, therefore, are a test of things which
admit of doubt, between Pagans and Jews, Jews
and Christians, Catholics and Heretics, the ca-
lumniator and the person calumniated, and be-
tween the three crosses.

This has been seen in all the contests of truth
against error ; in those of Abel against Cain, of
Moses against Pharaoh's magicians, of Elijah
against the false prophets ; of Jesus Christ
against the Pharisees, of St. Paul against Bar-
Jesus, of the Apostles against the Exorcists, of
Christians against Infidels, of Catholics against
Heretics : and this is what shall be also seen in
the contention of Elias and Enoch against An-
tichrist. In miracles truth will always pre-
vail.

In short, in every dispute concerning the true
God, or the truth of religion, there has never

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES. 269

been a miracle performed on the side of error,
without greater on the side of truth.

By this rule it is evident, that the Jews were
under obligation to believe in Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ was suspected by them ; but his
miracles were infinitely more clear than the
suspicions against him. They ought therefore
to have believed him.

In the days of Jesus Christ some believed on
him ; others disbelieved him on account of those
prophecies, which specified Bethlehem as the
birth-place of the Messiah ; whereas they sup-
posed Jesus Christ to have been born in Naza-
reth. But they ought to have inquired more
diligently, whether he was born in Bethlehem :
for his miracles being convincing, this pretended
contradiction of the doctrine concerning him to
the scriptures, and the obscurity of his appear-
ance, did not at all excuse them, though it
blinded them.

Jesus Christ cured him that was born blind,
and performed many other miracles on the sab-
bath-day, by which he blinded the Pharisees,
who pretended to judge of his miracles by his
doctrine.

The same rule which obliges us to believe
Jesus Christ, obliges us to disbelieve Anti-
christ.

Jesus Christ spake neither against God nor

276 THOlttHf S ON MIRACLES.

against Moses. Antichrist and the fals<* pro-
phets, which are foretold in both Testaments,
will speak openly against God, and against
Jesus Christ. God will never permit a secret
enemy to perform miracles openly.

Moses prophesied of JeSus Christ, arid com-
manded the people to regard him. Jesus Christ
has prophesied of Antichrist, and forbidden us
to regard him.

The miracles of Jesiis Christ were hot fore-
told by Antichrist, but the miracles of Anti-
christ are foretold by Jesus Christ. So that if
Jesus Christ had not been the Messiah, he would
have led men into error ; but they cannot be led
into it, with any reason, by the miracles of An-
tichrist. Therefore the miracles of Antichrist
do not in any degree prejudice the miracles of
Jesus Christ. When Jesus Christ foretold the
miracles of Antichrist, he had no apprehen-
sion that he should impair the authority of his
own.

There is no reason whatever for believing in
Antichrist, which there is not also for believing
in Jesus Christ ; but there are many for believ-
ing in Jesus Christ, which there are not for be-
Jieving in Antichrist.

Miracles were employed in the foundation of
the church, and will be useful in preserving it to
the coming of Antichrist, and to the end.

Wherefore God, to preserve this evidence to

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

his church, has either confounded false miracles,
or foretold them; and has, by one means or
the other, raised himself above that which is
supernatural with respect to us, and has raised
us above it likewise. It will be the same in
time to come ; either God will not suffer the
existence of false miracles, or he will produce
greater.

For miracles have so much force and in-
fluence, that it was absolutely necessary that
God, seeing it is so clear that he exists, should
warn us not to credit them, when they were
performed in opposition to himself; for else
they might have been able to mislead us.

So that the several passages in the 13th chap-
ter of Deuteronomy, which prohibit all belief
in, or attention to those who work miracles, in
order to pervert men from the worship of the
true God ; and that in St. Mark, chap. xiii. 22.
There shall arise false Christs and false prophets,
and shall show signs and wonders to seduce, if it
were possible, even the elect, and others of the like
import, are so far from lessening the authority
of miracles, that nothing can more clearly evi-
dence their force.

The reason of men's disbelieving true mi-
racles, is want of charity : Ye believe not, said
Jesus Christ to the Jews, because ye are not of
i-fiy sheep ; John x. 26. The reason of their be-
lieving false miracles, is the same want of cha-

272 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

rity. Because they received not the love of the
truth, that they might be saved, for this cause God
shall send them strong delusion, that they may be-
lieve a lie; 2 Thess. ii. 10, 11.

When I have considered whence it is that men
give such credit to the pretended remedies of so
many impostors, so as often to put even their
lives into their hands, it has appeared to me to
be no other than this, that there are such things
in the world as real remedies ; for it would be
impossible, that there should be so many false
ones, and that they should obtain so great a de-
gree of credit, if there were none that are true.
For if there never had been any such things, and
were all distempers incurable, it is impossible
that men should ever have imagined they could
produce any, and still more so, that such num-
bers should have given credit to those who pre-
tended to possess them. For if a man should
give out, that he had a medicine which \vould
preserve men from dying, nobody would believe
him, there being no example of any such thing
having ever existed. But as there certainly is a
great number of remedies, the efficacy of which
has been proved by the knowledge even of the
wisest of men, credit is given to them on that
ground : and as the thing cannot be denied in
general, on account of particular real effects,
the multitude who are unable to distinguish

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

which of these particular effects are real, gives
credit to them all. So the reason why some
ascribe so many false effects to the moon, is,
that she has some real influences, as the ebbing
and flowing of the sea.

And it appears equally evident to me, that
there could never have been so many pretended
miracles, false revelations, witchcrafts, &c. but
from there having been others which were real ;
nor so many false religions, but because there
was one which was the true. For had there
never been any thing of this sort, it is next to
impossible that any could have imagined it, and
still more so that others should have believed
them. But because there were very remarkable
things which were true, and were therefore be-
lieved by the greatest among men, this impres-
sion was the cause which made the greater part
of mankind so capable of giving credit to those
which were spurious. And therefore, instead
of concluding that there are 110 true miracles,
because there are false ones, we ought, on the
contrary, to infer, that there are true miracles
because there are so many false ones ; and that
the only reason why there are false ones, is be-
cause there are others which are true ; and that
in like manner the only reason why there are
false religions, is because there is a true religion.
For the mind of man having been once led tg

T

274 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

these things by what is true, becomes afterward
susceptible of admitting what is counterfeit.

We are commanded to hear the church, but
not to believe miracles ; because the latter is
natural, and not the former. The one required
a precept, which the other did not.

There are so very few to whom God makes
himself known by these extraordinary interpo-
sitions, that it is our duty to profit well by those
opportunities he has afforded us. For he only
departs from the secrets of nature under which
he is veiled, that he may excite in us faith to
serve him with more ardour, when we know
him with more certainty.

If God were continually to give fresh revela-
tions of himself to men, there would be no
virtue in believing him ; and if he l>ad never
given any, faith could scarcely have had any
existence. But he is for the most part conceal-
ed, and only discloses himself occasionally to
those whom he would engage in his service. This
wonderful obscurity in- which God is hid, impe-
netrable to human sight, is a powerful motive to
solitude, and retirement from the view of the
world. Before the incarnation, God remained
hidden under the veil of nature which conceals
him from us, and when the time was come for

THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

his appearance, he was still more hidden by
clothing himself with humanity. Fie was much
more easily known while he was invisible, than
when he made himself visible. And at length,
when he designed to accomplish the promise
which he made to his Apostles, to continue with
his church till his second coming, he chose the
most strange and obscure concealment of all,
namely, that under the elements of the Eucha-
rist. It is this sacrament which St. John calls in
the Revelation the hidden manna; Rev. ii. 17.
And I think that Isaiah sa\y him thus, when he
said in the spirit of prophesy, Verily thou art a
God that hidest thyself; Isa. xlv. 15. This is the
greatest concealment he can assume. The veil
of nature which conceals God, has been pene-
trated by many Infidels, who, as Si. Paul tes-
tifies, have seen the invisible God, through vi-
sible nature; Rom. i. 20. Many heretical Chris-
tians have known him through his humanity,
and have worshipped Jesus Christ as God and
man. But as for us, we ought to esteem our-
selves happy, that it has pleased God to en-
lighten us to discern him under the elements of
bread and wine.

To these considerations we may add the
mystery of God's Spirit, who is concealed in
the scriptures. For wrhereas there are two per-
fect senses of them, a literal and a mystical ; the
Jews resting in the former, never so much as

T 2

276 THOUGHTS ON MIRACLES.

think there is another, nor apply themselves ta
search after it ; so wicked persons, beholding
the operations of nature, ascribe them to na-
ture, without thinking of any other author. And
as the Jews, seeing a perfect human nature in
Jesus Christ, did not seek for another : He was
despised, and we esteemed him noty says Isaiah, in
their name; Isa. liii. 3.— So also Heretics, see-
ing the perfect appearance of bread in the Eu-
charist, look for no other substance. Every
thing contains some mystery. All things are
the veils of their Creator. Christians ought to
see him in every thing. Temporal affliction*
hide those eternal blessings to which they lead :
temporal enjoyments cover those eternal evils
which they procure. Let us beg of God to
make us know him and serve him in all things ;
and let us render him infinite thanks, that being
hidden in every thing from so many others, he
should in so many things, and in so many ways,
have disclosed himself to us.

277

XXVIII.

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

1 HE ungodly, who abandon themselves blindly
to their passions, without either knowing God,
or giving themselves the trouble to seek him,
verify in themselves this one principle of the
faith which they oppose, that human nature is
in a state of corruption. And the Jews, who
obstinately withstand the Christian religion, ve-
rify in like manner this, other principle of the
same faith, which they oppose, namely, that
Jesus Christ is the true Messiah, and that he
came to redeem mankind, and to rescue them
from the misery and corruption into which they
were fallen. And this they do as well by the
state in which we see them at present, and which
was foretold in the prophecies, as by the pro-
phecies themselves, which are still in their
hands, and which they inviolably preserve, as
containing tke marks by which the Messiah is
to be known. Thus the evidences of the de-
pravity of men, and of redemption by Jesus
Christ, which are the two principal truths which
Christianity establishes, may be deduced from
the wicked, who live in indifference about reli-

T3

278 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

gion, and from the Jews, who are its irrecon-
cilable enemies.

The dignity of man, in his innocence, con-
sisted in ruling and making use of the crea-
tures ; but, under his present corruption, it
consists in retiring from them, and in submit-
ting himself to them.

0 - ' - .

Many err the more dangerously, because
they take a truth as the foundation of their
error. This mistake lies, not in the believing
a falshood, but in regarding one truth to the

exclusion of another.
™
There are a great number of truths both in

faith and in morals, which seem repugnant,
and contrary, all of which subsist together in
wonderful order.

The ground of all heresy is the rejection of
some of these truths ; and the source of all the
objections made by heretics against us, is their
ignorance of some of these truths.

And it usually happens, that not being able
to conceive the connection of two seemingly
opposite truths, and supposing that the admis-
sion of one necessarily includes a rejection of
the other, they embrace the one, and exclude
the other.

The Nestorians maintained there were two

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 279

persons in Jesus Christ, because there are two
natures ; and the Eutychians, on the contrary,
that there was but one nature, because he was
but one person. The Catholics are orthodox
in joining together both truths, the two na-
tures, and one person.

The shortest way to prevent heresies is to
teach all truths without reserve ; and the surest
method of confuting heresies, is to expose them
without reserve.

Grace and nature will be always in the world.
There will always be Pelagians, and there will
always be Catholics; because the first birth
produces the one, and the second birth the
other.

The church, together with Jesus Christ, to
whom she is inseparably united, merits the con-
version of all those who are not in the true re-
ligion. And those who are converted, after-
ward assist the mother which has delivered
them.

The body can no more live without the head,
than the head without the body. He that se-
parates from the one, or the other, is no more
of the body, nor does he belong any longer to
Jesus Christ. All virtues, martyrdom, austeri-

T 4

280 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

ties, and all good works, are of no avail out of
the church, and out of communion with the
head of the church.

This will be one of the confusions of the
damned, to see themselves condemned by their
own reason, by which they have taken upon
them to condemn the Christian religion,

The lives of men in general, and the lives
of saints, have this in common, that all of them
aspire after happiness ; they only differ with re-
gard to the object in which they place it : and
each of them account those their enemies who
prevent them from attaining it.

We ought to judge what is good and what is
evil by the will of God, which can never be un-
just, or erroneous, and not by our own will,
which is always full of wickedness and error.

Jesus Christ in his Gospel has given this mark
of those who have faith, that they shall speak
a new language : and indeed a renovation of
thoughts and desires causes that of conversa-
tion. These new things which cannot be dis-
pleasing to God, as the old man cannot possibly
please him, are very different from the novel-
ties of this world, because worldly things, how
new soever they may be, grow old by conti-

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 281

nuance ; whereas this new disposition, the longer
it continues, the more new it becomes. Our
outward man perishcth, says St. Paul, yet the in-
ward man is renewed day by day $ 2 Cor. iv. 16.
and it will only be completely new in eternity,
when we shall sing without ceasing, the new song,
of which David speaks in his psalms, namely,
the song inspired by the new spirit of cha-
rity.

When St. Peter and the Apostles consulted
about the abolition of circumcision, where the
point in debate was the acting contrary to the
law of God, they did not refer to the prophets,
but only considered the reception of the Holy
Ghost by persons nncircumcised. They judged
it more certain, that God should approve of
those whom he had filled with his Spirit, than
that he should require an observance of the ce-
remonial law. They knew the only end of the
law was the reception of the Holy Spirit, and
that therefore as these men had received it with-
out circumcision, that ordinance had ceased to
be necessary.

Two laws are more adequate to the regula-
tion of the whole Christian community, than all
political institutions together; namely, the love
of God, and that of our neighbour.

CSS CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

Religion is proportioned to minds of every de-
scription. The generality of men look only at
its outward condition and establishment. And
our religion is such, that its very establishment
is a sufficient evidence of its truth. Others
trace it up to the Apostles; the more learned
go back to the beginning of the world. The
angels see it better and higher still, for they see
it in God himself.

Those to whom God has given an inward
sense of religion in their hearts are truly happy,
and thoroughly convinced. But as for those
who have not this, we have no way of procuring
it for them, but by reasoning ; waiting till God
shall imprint it himself on their hearts ; with-
out which, their faith is not profitable to salva-
tion.

God, to reserve to himself the right of in-
structing us, and to render the difficulties of
our own being unintelligible to us, has laid the
knot so high, or, to speak more properly, so
low, that we are unable to reach it. So that it
is not by the struggles of our reason, but by a
simple submission of it, that we are made ca-
pable of truly knowing ourselves.

Ungodly persons, who profess to be guided
by reason, ought to have their reason wonder-
fully strong. What then have they to say?

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 283

c Do we not see, that beasts live and die like
c men, and Turks like Christians ? The Turks
6 have their ceremonies, their prophets, their
< doctors, their saints, their religious orders,
* as well as we ? &c/ But does this contra-
dict scripture ? Does not the scripture avow
all this ? If you care but little about the know-
ledge of truth, this may be enough to set you
at rest; but if you desire with your whole
heart to know it, you must go more into detail.
This sort of levity might be well enough about
a vain question of philosophy ; but not where
your all is at stake. And yet, after making
some trivial reflection of this nature, men go on
again to amuse themselves, just as before.

It is an awful thing to feel all that we pos-
sess continually wasting away, and at the same
time to set our heart upon it, without inquiring
after something more solid and durable.

Our life ought to be very different on these
two suppositions : one, that we may abide here
for ever : the other, that it is certain we cannot
remain here long, and uncertain whether we
shall remain even an hour. The latter supposi-
tion is our case.

Let us imagine a number of men in chains,
all condemned to die, and some of them
slaughtered every day in sight of the rest, who
see their own fate in that of their companions,

284 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

and yet wait their own turn, looking carelessly
at one another, without concern, and without
hope : this is a picture of the condition of
men.

The variety of parties in the world, ought to
make you more earnest in seeking the truth.
For, if you die without worshipping the true
God, you are ruined. " But, say you, if he
" had designed that I should worship him, he
" would have left me some tokens of his will."
Why, he has really left them, but you are care-
less about them : therefore, at least, inquire : it
is well worth your while.

Atheists ought surely to offer nothing but
what is perfectly clear. But a man must have
lost his senses to affirm it is perfectly clear that
the soul is mortal. I freely allow it is Unneces-
sary to look deeply into the system of Coperni-
cus ; but it concerns us more than our life to
know whether the soul is mortal or immor-
tal.

The prophecies, nay even miracles, and the
other proofs of our religion, are not such as
can be called geometrically demonstrative. But
I only want you now to admit, that it is not
acting contrary to reason to believe them. They
possess both clearness and obscurity, to illumi-

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS, 285

Hate some, and to confuse others. But the clear-
ness is such as surpasses, or at least equals, the
clearest things that can be brought against them ;
insomuch that it is not reason that can deter-
mine men not to regard them : on the contrary,
it can only be concupiscence and depravity of
heart. So that there is sufficient evidence to
condemn those who refuse to believe, if there be
not sufficient to overcome them. And hence it
will appear, that in those who are guided by the
gospel, it is grace and not reason that makes
them follow it ; and in those who slight it, it is
concupiscence and not reason that makes them
reject it.

Who can do otherwise than admire and em-
brace a religion which thoroughly knows those
truths, which, the more we know, the more we
shall be obliged to acknowledge ?

A person who discovers the evidences of
Christianity, is like an heir who finds the title
deeds of his estate. Would he say at once they
are false, and neglect to examine them ?

There are two descriptions of persons who
possess the knowledge of God ; those whose
hearts are humbled, and who love self-contempt
and abasement, whatever degree of understand-
ing they may be endued with, be it little or

286 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

much ; and those who have sufficient under-
standing to discover the truth, through all the
opposition they can experience.

The wise men among the Pagans who affirm-
ed there was only one God, were persecuted ;
the Jews were haled on that account, and Chris-'
tians have been still more so.

I see no greater difficulty in believing the re-
surrection of the dead, or the conception of the
virgin, than the creation of the world. Is it
less easy to re-produce an human body than it
was to produce it at first ? If we were unac-
quainted with the natural mode of generation,
would it appear more strange to see a child
from a woman only, than from a man and a
woman ?

There is a great difference between quiet,
and security of conscience. The former should
only be derived from a sincere search after
truth ; but nothing can give the latter, but
truth itself.

There are two articles of fkith equally cer-
tain : one, that man, either in his state of cre-
ation, or in that of grace, is raised above all
nature, made like unto God, and a partaker of
the divine nature ; the other, that in his state

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. £8?

of corruption and sin, he is fallen from this
greatness, and become like to the beasts. These
two propositions are firm and certain : the holy
scripture bears a positive testimony to both.
For, in some places we read, My delights ivere
zi-if/i the sons of men. Prov. viii. 31. / will
pour out my Spirit upon all flesh. Joel ii. 28.
/ have said ye are gods, &c. Ps. Ixxxii. 6. and
in others, All flesh is grass. Isa. xl. 6. Man is
like unto the beasts that perish. Ps. xlix. 12. /
said in my heart, concerning the estate of the
sons of men, that God might manifest them, and
that they might see that tliemselves are beasts.
Eccies. iii. 18.

The instances we have of the heroic deaths
of the Lacedemonians and others, do but little
affect us%; for what indeed do they all signify
to us ? But the examples of the death of the
martyrs touch us, for they are members of us :
we have a common interest with them; and
their fortitude may give birth to ours. There .
is nothing like this in the examples of the Pa-
gans : we have no connection with them. Thus
we are not enriched by the riches of a stranger,
as we are by the riches of a father, or an hus-
band.

We never disengage ourselves from any thing
without some degree of pain. We do not feel

288 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

our chain, says St. Austin, while we willingly
follow him who pulls it ; but when we begin to
resist, and to draw back, we become suilerers ;
the chain is put upon the stretch, and endures
the utmost violence. Such a chain is our body,
which death alone can break. Our Lord has
said, that from the coming of John the Baptist,
that is to say, from his coming in the heart of
every believer, the kingdom of heaven suffer eth
violence, and the violent take it by force. Matt. xi.
12. Before we are touched from on high, we
have nothing but the weight of our own concupis-
cence, which bears us down to the earth. But
when God is pleased to draw us up toward him-
self, these two contrary efforts produce that vio-
lence, which God alone is able to overcome.
But we can do all things, as St. Leo observes,
with him, without whom we can do nothing. We
must therefore resolve to endure this warfare all
our life long, for there is no such thing as,
peace. Jesus Christ came not to send peace on
earth, but a sword. Matt. x. 34. Nevertheless
we must acknowledge, that, as the scripture
says, The wisdom of men is foolishness with
God. 1 Cor. iii. 19. So we may say that
this war, hard as it appears to many, is
peace with God, and this is the peace which
Jesus Christ has brought. But it will not
be perfect till the destruction of the body.
And this it is that makes us wish for death 5

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

bearing, however, with life, for the love of him,
who suffered both life and death for us, and who,
as St. Paul expresses it, » is able to do for us
exceeding abundantly above all we can ask or
think. Ephes. iii. 20.

We should endeavour not to be distressed
about any thing, but to take every event for
the best. I apprehend this to be a duty, and
the neglect of it to be a sin. For in truth, the
reason why sin is sin, is merely because it is
contrary to the will of God. If, therefore,
the essence of sin consists in having a will
contradictory to the known will of God, it
seems clear to me, that when he discovers his
will to us by events, we sin if we do not con-
form ourselves to it.

When truth is deserted and persecuted, this
seems to be the time that the service which
we yield to God in defending it, is peculiarly
acceptable. He wills that we should judge of
grace by a comparison with nature. And thus
he allows us to believe, that as a prince, de-
throned by his own subjects, retains the most
tender affection for those who continue faithful
to him in the public revolt ; so it appears, that
God will regard those with peculiar goodness,
who maintain the purity of religion, when it is
attacked. But there is this difference between

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290 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

the kings of the earth, and the King of kings ;
that princes do not make their subjects loyal,
but find them so; whereas God never finds
men otherwise than disloyal without his grace,
and that he himself makes them faithful when
they are so. So that while kings are wont to
own their obligation to those who continue in
their duty and allegiance ; those, on the con-
trary, who persevere in the service of God, are
under infinite obligations to him on that very
account.

No austerities of the body, nor exercises of
mind, but only the good emotions of the heart,
have any merit, or are able to support the
pains of the body and the mind. For in short,
two things are essential to sanctification, pains,
and pleasures. St. Paul informs us, that it is
through much tribulation, and afflictions with-
out number, we must enter into the kingdom of
God. Acts xiv. 22. Now this ought to com-
fort those who feel these afflictions, because
being forewarned that the path to the heaven
they seek, is full of them, they ought to rejoice
at finding so many marks of their being in the
true way. But these pains are not without
their pleasures, by which alone they can be
surmounted. For as those who forsake God to
return to the world, only do it because they
find more enjoyment, in the pleasures of the
world, than in those of union to God; and

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

because this victorious charm draws them aside,
making them repent of their first choice, and
rendering them, as Tertullian speaks, the De-
vi Fs penitents ; so men would never abandon
the pleasures of the world, to embrace the cross
of Jesus Christ, did they not feel more real
delight in contempt, poverty, nakedness, and
in the scorn of men, than in all the pleasures
of sin. And therefore, as Tertullian also ob-
serves, We are not to suppose the Christian life
is a life of sadness. We never quit one plea-
sure, but for the sake of a greater. Pray witli*
out ceasing, says St. Paul, in every thing give
thanks, rejoice evermore _; 1 Thess. v. 16 — 18.
It is the joy of finding God, which is the
spring of our sorrow for having offended him,
and of the whole change of our life. He
that has found a treasure hid in a field, ac-
cording to the parable of our Lord, is so trans-
ported as to go and sell all that he has, and
buy that field-, Matt. xiii. 44. Worldly men
have their sorrows, but they have not that joy,
which Jesus Christ said the world can neither
give nor take away. The blessed in heaven
possess this joy without any mixture of sorrow.
And Christians have this joy, mingled with
sorrow, for having followed other pleasures,
and for fear of losing it by these other plea-
sures, which are tempting them without ceasing.
We should therefore unremittingly endeavour

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292 CHRISTIAN KEFLECTIONS.

to preserve this fear, which both preserves and
moderates our joy ; and when we find our-
selves carried too far toward the one, we ought
to incline ourselves toward the other, that we
may keep ourselves upright. Remember your
comforts in the day of affliction, and your afflic-
tions in the days of rejoicing, says the scrip-
ture, Eccles. vii. 14. till the promise which our
Lord has given'us of making his joy perfect in
us, be fulfilled. Let us not, therefore, suffer
ourselves to be beaten down by affliction, nor
imagine that piety consists only in bitterness
without consolation. True piety, which only
receives its completion in heaven, is neverthe-
less so replete with consolations, that they fill
its beginning, its progress, and its crown. It
is a light so resplendent, that it brightens every
thing which belongs to it. If some grief be
intermixed with it, especially at its commence-
ment, this proceeds from ourselves, and not
from virtue; for it is not the effect of that
piety which has been begun in us, but of that
impiety which still remains. Root out impiety,
and your joy will be ^Unalloyed. Let us not
therefore ascribe this sadness to devotion, but
to ourselves, and let us only expect relief in
our own sanctification.

What is past ought to give us no uneasiness,
except that of regret for our faults. And what is

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 293

to come ought still less to affect us, because it is
nothing with regard to us now, and perhaps we
shall never live to see it. The present is the
only time which is properly ours ; and we ought
to use this in conformity to the will of God.
To this our thoughts should be principally
directed. Yet the world is generally so rest-
less, that men scarcely ever think of the pre-
sent time, and the instant they are now actually
living, but of those in which they are to live.
So that we are always in a disposition to live
in future, but never to live now. Our Lord
has not chosen, that our foresight should ex-
tend beyond the day that is present. These
are the limits which he requires us to observe,
both for the sake of our salvation, and for our
own repose.

We sometimes correct ourselves more effec-
tually by the sight of what is evil, than by th~
example of what is good. And it is highly
useful to accustom ourselves to derive instruc-
tion from evil, because it is so common, whereas
that which is good, is more uncommon.

In the thirteenth chapter of St. Mark, Jesus
Christ discourses at large to his Apostles, con-
cerning his second coming. And as whatever
happens to the Church happens likewise to
, every Christian in particular, it is certain, that

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294 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

this whole chapter describes as well the state of
every regenerated person, and the destruction
of the old man in him, as the state of the whole
universe, which shall be destroyed to give
place to the new heavens and new earth, of
which the scripture speaks. The prediction
which it contains of the destruction of the
rejected temple, which is the figure of the de-
struction of the man of sin in every one of us,
and of which it is said, that not one stone shall
be kft upon another ; teaches us, that there
shall not be left a single affection of the old
man. And those dreadful civil and domestic
wars, are so lively a representation of the in-
ward trouble which they feel, who devote
themselves to God, that nothing could have
been more accurately described.

The Holy Spirit resides invisibly in the re-
mains of those who are departed in the grace of
God, till he shall appear visibly in them at the
resurrection. And it is hence that the reliques
of the saints are so worthy of veneration : for
God never forsakes those that are truly his, not
even in the grave, where their bodies, although
dead to the eyes of men, are yet living in the
sight of God; because sin has no longer any
existence in them, whereas it always resides in
them during this life, at least as to its root,
though not always as to its fruits. And this

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 295

root of bitterness, which is inseparable from
them, during life, makes it unlawful to honor
them when living, as they are then more worthy
of hatred. Hence death is necessary entirely
to mortify that unhappy root, and this is what
renders it desirable.

The elect will be unconscious of their virtues,
and the reprobate of their crimes. Both will
say, Lord, when sazv we thee an hundred ? &c.
Matt. xxv. 37, 44.

Jesus Christ refused the testimony of evil
spirits, and of men uncalled, and chose that of
God, and of John the Baptist.

While I have been writing down a thought,
it has sometimes escaped me ; but this reminds
me of my weakness, which I am continually
forgetting, and that instructs me as much as
the thought could do which I have forgotten ;
for all my study is to know my own nothing-
ness.

The defects of Montaigne are gross. He
abounds in lewd and indecent expressions.
These can do no good. His thoughts on self-
murder, and on death, are horrible. He in-
culcates an indifference about salvation, with-
out either fear or repentance. His work not
U4

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS,

being composed to lead men to piety, his plan
did not oblige him to that ; but we are always
obliged not to lead them away from it. What-
ever may be said to excuse his licentious opi-
nions on many subjects, it is impossible to find
any sort of excuse for his Pagan sentiments con-
cerning death. For a man must have utterly
abandoned all goodness, if he does not at least
desire to die like a Christian : and yet to die in
carelessness and unconcern, is the wish that runs
through all his performance.

That which deceives us in comparing what
passed formerly in the church, with what we
see it now, is, that in common we look on
St. Athanasius, St. Theresa, and the other holy
saints, as being crowned with glory. Now
that time has cleared up things, it does really
appear so. But at the time when that great
saint was persecuted, he was a mere man who
bore the name of Athanasius ; and St. Theresa,
in her day, was like the other religious sisters
of her order. Elias was a man of like passions as
we are, says St. James, James v. 17- to wean
Christians from that false idea which makes us
reject the examples of the saints, as dispropor-
tioned to our own condition. They were saints,
we cry, and not men like us.

In conversing with those who have an aversion

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 297

to religion, We should begin by showing them,
that it is by no means contrary to reason ; in
the next place, that it is worthy of veneration,
to inspire them with respect for it ; and after
this, we should describe it as lovely, to make
them wish it may be true ; and then we may de-
monstrate to them, by irrefragable proofs, that
it is true ; we may show them its antiquity and
holiness, its majesty and sublimity ; and finally
show them it is amiable, in that it holds out to
us the true good.

A single expression of David or Moses, as
for instance, this God will circumcise your hearts,
is sufficient to enable us to judge of their spirit.
Supposing all their other discourses to be ambi-
guous, and to leave a doubt whether they were
Philosophers, or Christians, one word of this
kind is enough to determine all the rest. Here
the ambiguity must vanish, however obscure it
might appear before.

If we should err in supposing the Christian
religion to be true, we can be no great losers by
the mistake. But how dreadful must it be to
err in supposing it false !

The easiest circumstances of life, in the opi-
nion of the world, are the most difficult, accord-
ing to the judgment 4Df God; and, on the othci

ogs CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

hand, nothing is so difficult, in the opinion of
the world, as a life of religion, whereas no-
thing is so easy as such a life, in the judgment
of God. Nothing is more ,easy, according to
the doctrine of the world, than to be high in
office, and enjoy ample revenues; but nothing
is more difficult, than to live in these accord-
ing to the will of God, and without taking de-
light and satisfaction in them.

The Old Testament contained the types of fu-
ture happiness; and the New, contains the means
of attaining it. The figures were those of plea-
sure, the means are those of repentance. And
yet the Paschal Lamb was eaten with bitter herbs,
to teach us, that there is no arriving at joy, but
by sorrow.

The word Galilee happening to be uttered as
it were by chance, by the Jewish rabble, when
they accused Jesus Christ before Pilate, occa-
sioned Pilate to send him to Herod, which ful-
filled the mystery of his being judged both by
the Jews and the Gentiles. Thus a mere acci-
dent, in appearance, occasioned the completion
of the prophecy.

A man told me one day, that he was full of
joy and satisfaction, as he came from confes-
sion ; another told me, that he was full of fear.

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 399

I thought that these two men put together
would make one good one ; and that each of
them was defective, in not possessing the feel-
ings of the other.

There is a pleasure in being in a vessel tossed
by a tempest, while we are certain there is no
danger of its sinking. The persecutions of the
church are of this description.

As the two great sources of all our sins are
pride and sloth, God has been pleased to make
known two of his attributes for their cure, his
mercy, and his justice. The property of his
justice is to abase our pride; and that of his
mercy, is to overcome our indolence, and ex-
cite us to good works ; according to this pas-
sage : The goodness of God leadeth us to repent-
ance. Rom. ii. 4. And this respecting the
Ninevites : Let us repent, and see if he will not
have mercy on us. Jonah iii. 9. Thus the
mercy of God is so far from encouraging re-
missness, that, on the contrary, nothing is
more opposite to it. And instead of saying,
If our God were not a merciful God, we
should use our utmost endeavours to fulfil his
commands ; we ought, on the contrary, to say,
because God is a God of mercy, we ought to
labour with all our strength to fulfil what he has
commanded. 1

300 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

The history of the church ought in propriety
to be called, the history of truth.

All that is in the world, is either the hist of
the flesh, the lust of the eyes, or, the pride of
life : the lust of feeling, the lust of knowing,
and the lust of ruling. Miserable is that ac-
cursed land, which these three rivers of fire
burn up, rather than water 1 Happy those who
being upon these rivers are not overwhelmed,
or carried away, but remain immoveable ; and
who, not standing erect, but sitting on a sure
and humble seat, whence they will not rise till
the light appear, after having rested there in
peace, shall stretch forth their hands to him
who will raise them up, and cause them to stand
upright and firm within the gates of the holy
Jerusalem, where they shall no longer fear the
assaults of pride ! And who wreep in the mean
time ; not to see all these perishable things pass
away, but at the remembrance of their dear
country* the heavenly Jerusalem ; after which
they sigh incessantly, because of the continu-
ance of their exile.

A miracle, say some, would confirm my be-
lief. So men talk about what they do not see.
But those regions, which afar off seem to be the
bounds of our sight, cease to bound it when we
have reached them. We discover a scene be-

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 301

yond them. Nothing can stop the versatility
of our minds. There is no rule, we say, with-
out an exception ; and no truth so universal as
not to have some part, in which it appears to
disadvantage ; and if principles be not absolutely
universal, we have sufficient pretence to apply
the exception to the present case, and to say,
this is not always a mark of truth ; therefore in
some cases it is not so : We then have nothing
more to do than to persuade ourselves, that this
is one of those cases, and we must be very stu-
pid indeed if we can find no pretext for that
opinion.

Charity is not a figurative precept. To say
that Jesus Christ, who came to take away the
figure, in order to establish the truth, came
only to introduce the figure of charity, and to
remove the substance which existed before, is
abominable.

The heart has its arguments with which rea-
son is not acquainted. We feel this in a thou-
sand instances. It is the heart which feels God,
and not reason. This is perfect faith, God
known to the heart.

How many stars have our telescopes enabled
us to discover, which had no existence with
the philosopers of former times ! They attacked

302 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

scripture on account of its so often mentioning
the immense number of the stars. There are
but a thousand and twenty-two of them in all,
said they : we know it.

The knowledge of external things will never
console us for our ignorance of morality in the
time of affliction : but the knowledge of morality
will always console us under the ignorance of
external things.

Man is so framed, that by often telling him
he is a fool, he believes it ; and by often tell-
ing himself so, he persuades himself of it. For
every person holds an inward conversation with
himself, which it highly concerns him well to
regulate, because, even in this sense, evil con-
versations corrupt good manners. We ought
to keep silence, as much as possible, and to
converse with ourselves only about God, and
thus we shall be most effectually convinced of
our own folly.

What is the difference between a soldier and
a Carthusian, as to obedience ? For they are
equally under subjection, equally dependent,
and engaged in labours equally painful. But
the soldier all along hopes to be his own master,
and yet never becomes so, for captains and even
princes are always slavish and dependent. But

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS. 303

yet he is always hoping for independence, and
always endeavouring to attain it j whereas the
Carthusian makes a vow that he never will be
independent. They do not differ with respect
to perpetual servitude, which is the portion of
both ; but in the hope which one cherishes, and
which the other does not.

Our own will, though it should obtain all it
can wish, would never be contented. But we
are contented from the very instant that we re-
nounce it. We never can be contented with it,
nor otherwise than contented without it.

The true and only virtue consists in hating
ourselves (because we are hateful by our con-
cupiscence) and in seeking a being who is truly
amiable, that we may love him. But as we
cannot love that which is absolutely out of us,
we must love some being who can dwell in us,
and is nevertheless distinct from us. Now there
is no such object, but the Universal Being.
The kingdom of God is within us. • Luke xvii. 21.
The universal good is within us, and yet is dis-
tinct from us.

It is wrong for persons to attach themselves to
us, though they do it voluntarily, and with plea-
sure. We deceive those, in whom we give rise
to such a desire. For we are not the true end
of any others, nor have we wherewith to satisfy

304 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS,

them. Are we not on the borders of death, so
that the object of their attachment must die r
As it would be criminal in us to make them
credit a falshood, although we might recom-
mend it with eloquence, and they might em-
brace it with pleasure ; so are we blameable, if
we labour to make others love us> and to make
them attach themselves to us. We ought to
warn persons, whom we find ready to credit an
untruth, that they may not believe it, whatever
advantage we may be likely to reap by their
mistake; and we ought also to warn others
against attaching themselves to us ; because
their whole life ought to be spent in seeking God,
or in studying to please him.

•v,. To put our trust in forms and ceremonies, is
superstition ; but not to comply with them is
pride.

All sects and religions in the world, had na-
tural reason for their guide. Christians alone
have been obliged not to take their rules of act-
ing from themselves, but to inform themselves
of those rules, which Jesus Christ delivered to
the primitive Christians, in order that they
might be transmitted to us. There are certain
persons who are weary of this restraint. They
want to have the liberty of following their own
imaginations, like the rest of the world. It is

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

in vain that we cry to them, as the prophets did
formerly to the Jews, Enter into the church,
and ask for the old paths, where is the good way,
and walk therein. They answer like the Jews,
We will not walk therein ; but we will certainly do
according to the thoughts of our own heart, like
the nations round about us. Jer. vi. 16. Ezek. xx.
32, &c.

There are three ways of believing ; through
reason, through custom, and through inspira-
tion. Christianity, which is the only rational
religion, admits none as its children, v/ho do
not believe through inspiration. Not that it ex-
cludes reason or custom : on the contrary, we
ought to open our minds to conviction by argu-
ments ; and to confirm ourselves in the belief of
them, by habitual custom. But Christianity re-
quires us, with humiliation of mind, to seek that
inspiration, which alone can produce this true
and salutary end— Lest the cross of Christ should
be made of none effect, 1 Cor. i. 17-

We never do evil so cheerfully and effectu-
ally, as when we do it upon a false principle of
conscience.

The Jew^s, who were called to subdue nations
and princes, were themselves tke slaves of Sift;

x

306. CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

--and Christians, whose calling it is to serve and
be subject, are the true children of liberty.

Is it courage in a dying man, in all his weak-
ness and agony, to dare an omnipotent and
eternal God?

I would readily give credit to histories, the
witnesses of which seal them with their own
blood.

Holy fear proceeds from faith ; false fear arises
from doubt :— -the former leads to hope, because
it arises from faith ; we hope in that God whom
we believe : — the latter leads to. despair ; for we
iear a God in whom we have no faith. Persons
of the one character dread to lose God ; and
those of the other, to find him.

Solomon and Job best knew, and best spake, of
human misery; one, the most happy, the other
the most unfortunate of men : one knew, by ex-
perience, the vanity of pleasure ; as the other
did, the reality of affliction.

'!

The Pagans spake ill of Israel ; and so did
the prophet EzekieH — but so far from this giv-
ing the Israelites a right to reply, you speak
of us as the heathens do, he lays his greatest

CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS 307

stress on the heathens having talked of them as
he did.

God does not expect us to submit our faith
to him without reason, or to subdue us to him-
self by tyranny. But he does not intend to
give us a reason for every thing. And to re-
concile these contrarieties, he is pleased clearly
to show us those divine characters of himself,
which may convince us of what he is, and to
.establish his authority by miracles and evidences
that we shall be unable to resist,— in order that
we might, afterward, believe without hesitation
whatever he teaches us, when we find no other
reason to reject it, but because we are un-
able to know of ourselves, whether it be true or
not.

There are but three descriptions of men ;
those who serve God having found him ; those
who, not having yet found him, are employed in
seeking after him ; and lastly, those who live
•without either having found him, or seeking
after him. The first are rational and happy ;
the third are irrational and foolish ; the second
are unhappy, but yet are rational.

Men often mistake their imagination for their
heart ; and suppose themselves to be really con-

308 CHRISTIAN REFLECTIONS.

verted as soon as ever they think about conver-
sion.

Reason proceeds slowly — upon so many views,
and such different maxims, which it ought al-
ways to keep in view — that it either becomes
stupid or goes astray continually, for want of
perceiving them all at once. The case is quite
otherwise with Sense j which acts instantane-
ously, and is always ready to act. We ought,
therefore,— when our reason has made us ac-
quainted with the truth, — to endeavour to im-
print our faith on the sentiments of our heart,
for without this it will always be wavering and
uncertain.

The essential nature of God makes it necessa-
ry, that his justice should be infinite as well as his
mercy. Yet his justice and severity toward the
reprobate is, still, less amazing than his mercy
toward the elect.

309

XXIX.

MORAL REFLECTIONS.

X HE sciences have two extremities, which
touch each other. The first is pure natural ig-
norance, in which every man is born. The
other is the perfection attained by great souls,
who having gone through every thing that man
can know, feel that they know nothing-, and
find themselves in the same ignorance from which
they set out. But it is a wise ignorance that
knows itself. Those who are between these ex-
tremities, who have got out of their natural ig-
norance, but have not been able to arrive at the
other, have a tincture of science which fills
them with vanity, and makes them vaunt of
their attainments. These are the men who
trouble the world, and judge the most falsely
of every thing. The common people, and the
learned, usually compose the train of the world:
the others despise them, and are despised by
them.

The common people pay respect to persons
of high birth :— the half-learned despise them ;
alleging, that birth is not a superiority of parts,

X3

310 MORAI, REFLECTIONS.

but of chance : — the learned respect them ; not
from the motives of the vulgar, but for much
higher reasons : — certain zealots, who have but
little knowledge, despise them in spite of those
considerations, on account of which the learn-
ed respect them ; for they judge of them by
a new light, with which piety has inspired them :
— but real Christians honor them from a light
which is superior to that. Thus, one opinion
succeeds to another, both for and against ; ac-
cording to the different degrees of knowledge
which we possess.

God having made heaven and earth, which
are unconscious of the felicity of existence, has
been also pleased to create beings who might be
capable of knowing him, and who should com-
pose one body, consisting of members capable
of thinking. All men are members of this bo-
dy ; and in order to be happy, it is necessary
they should conform their own private wrills
to that universal will which governs the whole
body. But yet it often happens that a man
thinks himself to be a whole, and seeing no
other person on whom he is dependent, he thinks
he -depends only upon himself, and therefore
wants to make himself the centre and the body.
But he soon finds, in such a state, that he is
like a member separated from the body, and
which not having in itself a principle of life.

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 3 { I

can only wander and confound itself in the un-
certainty of its existence. At length, how-
ever, when he begins to know himself," and i«,
as it were, come to himself again, he finds that
he is not the whole body, that he is only a
member of the universal body; that to be a
member, is neither to have life, being, or mo-
tion, but for the body, and through the spirit
which animates the body. That a member, se-
parated from the body to which it belongs, has
from that time nothing more than a perishing
and dying existence ; that therefore he ought
only to love himself for the sake of the body, or
rather he ought only to love the body, because
in loving it he loves himself, since he has no be-
ing but in it, by it, and for it.

Therefore, in order to regulate our love of
ourselves, we must remember this body, com-
posed of thinking beings ; and, that we are
members of a whole ; and then we shall see,
in what way each member ought to love him-
self.

The body loves the hand : and the hand, if
it had a will, ought to love itself in the same
proportion that the body loves it. All love be-
yond this would be unjust.

If the feet and the hands had a private will
of their own, they could never be in their pro-
per order without submitting it to that of the
body ; without this, they must get into disorder
x 4

MORAL REFLECTIONS.

and misery. But in seeking only the good of
the body, they procure their own good,

The members 6f our bodies are not conscious
of the happiness which arises from their union
to each other, of the admirable wisdom with
which they are formed and connected, of the
care which nature has taken to influence them
with the spirits to make them grow and subsist.
If they were capable of knowing this, and were
to avail themselves of that knowledge for the
purpose of keeping to themselves the nourish-
ment they receive, without suffering it to pass
on to the rest ; they would not only be unjust,
but miserable also, and would hate themselves,
rather than love themselves ; their felicity, as
well as their duty, consisting in submitting to
the conduct of that universal spirit to which
they all .belong, and which loves them better
than they love themselves.

He that is joined to the Lord is one spirit.
1 Cor. vi. 17- A Christian loves himself, be-
cause he is a member of Jesus Christ ; and he
loves Jesus Christ, because He is the head of
that body of which he himself is a member.
There is one whole, in which both are included.

Concupiscence and violence are the sources
of all actions, merely human. The former pro-
duces those which are voluntary ; and the latter,
those which are involuntary.

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 313

Whence is it that a lame man does not offend
us, and that a deficient mind does offend us r
It is, because the lame man acknowledges that
we walk straight ; whereas the crippled in mind
maintain, that it is we who go lame. But for
this, we should feel more compassion for them,
than resentment.

Epictetus proposes a similar question : why
we are not angry when a man tells us, that we
have the head-ach, and yet fall into a passion
when he tells us we reason ill, or make a wrong
choice ? The reason is, that we can be very
certain that we have not the head-ach, or are not
lame; but we cannot be so certain that we make
a right choice. For having no assurance that
we do so, but because it appears so to us, with
all the light we have — when another, with all
his light, sees the contrary ; this confounds us,
and keeps us in suspense ; especially if a thou-
sand other persons laugh at our choice ; for then
we must prefer our own light to that of so ma-
ny others, which is a perplexing and difficult
matter. But men never contradict each other
thus, about the lameness of any one.

The common people have some sound no-
tions; for instance, that of preferring diversion
and the chase to the study of poetry. The half-
learned laugh at this, and triumph in showing
from thence the folly of the world. But for a

314 MORAL REFLECTIONS.

reason which they do not perceive, we are
right in distinguishing men on account of exter-
nal things, as birth and fortune ; the vulgar
triumph in showing how unreasonable they think
this to be. But, on the contrary, it is highly
reasonable and proper.

It is a great advantage to persons of quality,
that a man at eighteen or twenty, shall be as
much known and respected, as another can be,
by merit alone, at fifty. So that they gain thirty
years in advance without any trouble.

There are certain persons, who, to show how
unjust we are not to esteem them, never fail to
urge how much they are respected by some
people of quality. I would reply to them, show
us the merit by which you have obtained the
esteem of these persons, and we will esteem you
in like manner.

If a man places himself at a window, to see
those who pass by, and I happen to go that way,
can I say he placed himself there to see me?
No ; for he did not think of me in particular.
But he who loves a person on account of her
beauty, does he love her ? No j for the small-
pox, by destroying her beauty, without taking
away her life, will put an end to bis love. And
if I am loved for my understanding, or me-

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 315

mory, is it / that am loved ? No ; for I may
lose these qualities without ceasing to exist.
What then is this /, if it neither exists in the
body, nor in the soul ? And how are we to love
the body, or the soul, except for its qualities,
which yet are not what make up this /, because
they are perishable ? For could we love the
substance of a soul abstractedly, whatever qua-
lities might be in it ? That is impossible, and
would be unjust. We therefore never love
any person, but only the qualities of the per-
son. Or if we do love any person, we must al-
low it is the assemblage of qualities that makes
up the person.

The things we are most anxious about, are
most commonly trifling. As, for instance, to
conceal the smallness of our property. This
is a mere nothing, which our imagination swells
to a mountain. Another turn of the ima-
gination would make us discover it without
pain.

There are some vices which cleave to us
only by the intervention of others ; and which,
like branches, are taken away on removing the
trunk.

When ill-nature has reason on its side, it be-
eomes proud, and sets forth reason in all its

316 MORAL REFLECTIONS.

lustre. And when austerity, or a rigorous life,
has proved unsuccessful with regard to the true
good, and we are obliged to return and follow
nature, it grows prouder by that return*

It is not happiness to be capable of being
pleased with diversion; because all this is ex-
ternal and foreign, and consequently depend-
ent, and liable to be disturbed by a thousand
accidents, which give rise to inevitable afflic-
tions.

There are some persons who would never
have an author speak of things of which others
have spoken ; and if he does, they accuse him
of telling them nothing that is new. But if
the subject he treats of be not new, the method
of treating it may be new. When two men
play at tennis, they both play with the same
ball, but one directs it best. I should as rea-
dily accuse him, of using old words ; as if the
same ideas did not form another system of dis-
course, by a different disposition of them ; just
as the same words express quite different ideas
by a different arrangement.

The world is full of good maxims ; we only
want the application of them. For example,
we do not question that a man ought to ex-
pose his life to defend the public good j and

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 317

many do this ; but few do it in the cause of re-

ligion.

The height of wisdom is accounted folly, as
much as an extreme want of it. Nothing is
thought well of but mediocrity. The majority
have decided this ; and they bite at every one
who goes out of the line, on which side soever
it be. I will not oppose them ; I consent to be
classed among them ; and if I refuse to be at the
lowest end, it is not because it is low, but be-
cause it is the end, and I should equally refuse
to be at the top. To get out of the medium, is
to get beyond humanity ; the true greatness of
man consists in knowing how to preserve it;
and, so far from becoming great by departing
from it, he can only be great by not departing
from it.

A man does not pass in the world as having
any knowledge of poetry, unless he puts out
the sign of a poet ; or for being skilful in the
mathematics, unless he holds out that of a ma-
thematician. But persons of true sense hang
out no sign at all : and make very little differ-
ence between the trade of a poet and that of an
embroiderer. They are neither called poets nor
geometricians, but they form a judgment of
them all. You cannot guess at their talent.
They talk of any thing which the company

318 MORAL REFLECTIONS.

were speaking of when they came in. But you
do not discover in them one talent more than
another, except when there is a necessity for
using it, and then you will perceive it ; for their
character is as much marked by pur not saying
they are good speakers, when there is no occa-
sion for oratory, as by our saying they are so,
when such an occasion presents itself. It is
therefore a false kind of commendation to say of
a man, at his first entrance into company, that he
is well skilled in poetry : and it is a bad token
when people only appeal to him, when the de-
bate is about some particular verses.

Man is full of wants. He only loves those
who can satisfy them. Such an one is a good
mathematician, they cry : but I have nothing
to do with mathematics. Such an one is a
master of the art of war : but I do not want to
go to war. What we want, therefore, is a man
of probity, who can accommodate himself to all
our necessities.

When we are in health, we cannot think what
we should do, if we were sick. Yet, when we
are so, we take medicines cheerfully : the dis-
ease gives us resolution to do it. We, then, no
longer desire those walks and diversions which
we enjoyed when we were well, but which are
incompatible with the necessities of the com-

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 319

plaint. Nature gives us new passions and de-
sires agreeable to the present condition. It is
not nature, therefore, which gives us the bitters
that trouble us, but ourselves, by joining to the
condition in which we are, the passions of that
condition in which we are not.

Discourses of humility are matter of pride to
the ostentatious, and of humility to the humble.
And those, of scepticism and doubt, are matter
of affirmation to the positive. Few people
speak humbly of humility, or chastely of chas-
tity, or doubtingly of doubt. We -are full of
duplicity, falshood, and contradiction. We
conceal and disguise ourselves from ourselves.

Noble actions, when concealed, are the more
worthy of esteem. When I meet with any of
these in history, they please me much. But
yet they were not altogether concealed, because
they are known ; and this little manifestation of
them, diminishes their merit ; for the best part
of them is, that they were intended to be kept
secret.

A jester is a mean character.

Self is hateful ; and, therefore, those who do
not set it aside, but content themselves with
merely concealing if, are always hateful. By

320 MORAL REFLECTIONS.

no moans, say you ; for while we act as we do,
obligingly to all the world, they have no reason
to hate us. That would be true, if they hated
nothing. in this self, but the displeasure it occa-
sions them. But if I hate it, because it is un-
just, and makes itself the centre of every thing,
I shall always hate it. In a word, self has these
two qualities ; it is unjust in its own nature, be-
cause it wants to be the centre of every thing :
and it is troublesome to others, because it wishes
to enslave them ; for self is the enemy, and
would be the tyrant of all others. You take
away the inconvenience of it, but not the injus-
tice; and, therefore, you cannot render it amiable
to those who hate its injustice. You can only
make it agreeable to those who are unjust, and
whose interest it does not oppose ; thus you will
still be unjust, and will please none but those
who are also unjust.

I do not admire a man who possesses one
virtue in its utmost perfection, if he does not, at
the same time, possess the opposite virtue in an
equal degree. Such an one was Epaminondas ;
he had the greatest valour, joined to the greatest
benignity :* otherwise it is not to rise, but to fall.
A man never shows true greatness in being at
one end of the line ; but, in touching both extre-
mities at once, arid filling up all that lies be-
tween. But, perhaps, even this is nothing more

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 321

than a sudden transition of the soul from one
extreme to the other, so that, in fact, it is never,
in itself, any thing more than a point ; like a
firebrand turned round and round with velocity.
Yet this, at least, shows the agility of the soul,
if not its greatness.

If our condition were really happy, we should
have no occasion to divert ourselves from think-
ing-of it.

I formerly spent a considerable time in the
study of the abstract sciences; but the small
number of persons with whom I could converse
on them, disgusted me with them. When I
began to study man, I saw that these abstract
sciences are by no means adapted to him, and
that I had strayed further from my proper con-
dition, by entering into them, than others had,
by remaining ignorant of them, I therefore ea-
sily forgave their neglect. I thought I should
at least find more companions in the study of
man, because this is his proper employ. But I
have been again disappointed. There are still
fewer of those who study man, than of those
who study geometry.

When all moves equally, nothing seems to
move, as in a vessel under sail. When all run
into disorder, none appears to do so. He that

Y

MORAL REFLECTIONS.

stops, sees, as from a fixed point, how the rest are
driving on.

Philosophers suppose themselves very clever,
in having comprehended all their moral system
under certain propositions. But why divide it
into four rather than six? "Why make out four
kinds of virtue rather than ten ? Why make it
consist in abstain and sustain, (abstine et sustine]
rather than in any thing else ? But, say you,
here it is all summed up in a word. Yes, but
that is of no use, except you explain it ; and as
soon as you begin to explain it, and to open
this precept, which comprehends all the rest,
they come out from it in just the same confu-
sion you was endeavouring to avoid. And
thus, if they be all included in one, they are hid-
den, and useless ; and if we develop them, they
appear again in their natural confusion. Nar
ture has constituted them all distinct ; and al-
though we may comprehend one in another,
they yet subsist independent of each other. So
that all these divisions, and terms, have hardly
any other use than that of assisting the memory,
and of serving as a kind of index to the articles
they include.

If we could reprove -another with success,
and convince him that he is in the wrong, we
must observe in what point of view he looks on

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 323

the affair ; because, in that way it generally is as
he imagines, and to acknowledge that he is so
far in the right. He will be pleased with this,
because it intimates, not that he was mistaken,
but, only, that he had not considered the thing
on all sides. For we do not feel it any dis-
grace not to see every thing ; but we do not like
to acknowledge that we have been deceiv*
ed ; and perhaps the reason of this may be, that
the understanding is not deceived in that point
of view in which it actually considers the sub-
ject, just as the simple perceptions of the senses
are always true.

A man's virtue is not to be measured by his
great attempts, but by his common actions.

The great and the little have the same acci-
dents, the same troubles, the same passions.
But the former are at the top of the wheel, and
the latter near its centre, and therefore are less
agitated by the same degree of motion.

We are, for the most part, more easily per-
suaded by reasons of our own finding outa
than by those which have been discovered by
others.

Though men may have no interest in what
they say, we are not always from thence to

Y 2

324 MORAL REFLECTIONS.

conclude that they speak the truth ; for there
are some, who lie merely for the sake of ly-
ing.

The example of Alexander's continence has
not made so many converts to chastity, as that
of his drunkennesss has to intemperance. Men
feel no shame in not being quite as virtuous as
he, and think themselves very excusable in not
being more vicious than he was. We think we
have not quite reached the vices of the com-
mon people, when we see ourselves guilty of
those of such great men ; not considering that
by these they level themselves with the most
vulgar. We join ourselves to them at the same
end at which they are joined to the vulgar.
How lofty soever their condition may be, they
are still connected in some way with the rest of
mankind. They do not hang in the air, and
fbrm a totally separate society. If they are
greater than us, it is because their head is higher ;
their feet are as low as ours. They all touch
the same surface, and tread the same ground ;
and here they are as low as ourselves, or as
children, or, even, as beasts,

It is the contest that pleases us, and not the
victory. We like to see beasts fight ; but not
to see the conqueror tearing to pieces the ani-
mal he has vanquished. The only thing we

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 5

wish, is to behold the issue of the combat ; and
as soon as that is decided, we grow cloyed. So
it is in our diversions ; and, in our inquiries af-
ter truth. We like to see controversies, and
the contest of opinions, but are very indifferent
about the truth when it is ascertained. In order
that we may notice it with pleasure, it must
make its appearance in a dispute. And thus
with our passions ; we have a pleasure in see-
ing two contrary passions clash, but if either of
them prevail, it changes into brutality. We
never seek after things themselves, but after
the pursuit of things. Thus, in a play, quiet
scenes are good for nothing ; nor extreme dis-
tress, without hope ; nor love, as a mere animal
passion.

We do not teach men to be honest, though
we teach them every thing else ; and yet they
pique themselves on nothing so much as that.
Thus, they chiefly value themselves, on knowing
the only thing they never learned.

What a senseless project it was in Montaigne
to give such a picture of himself ; and that, not
by chance, and against his general maxims, for
all men fail in something, but on his professed
principles, and as his first and principal design !
For to say foolish things by accident, or through
weakness, is a common misfortune ; but to say

Y 3

326 MORAL REFLECTIONS.

them with design, and especially such things as
those, is insupportable.

Men of disorderly lives tell those who live
regularly, that the latter deviate from nature 5
and, that themselves are the only persons who
follow her : as men who are sailing in a ship
fancy those who stand on the shore to be re-
ceding. Each of them say the very same ;
we must stand at some fixed point, to judge of
the fact. The port itself decides with respect
to the vessel ; but where shall we find such a
point in morality ?

To pity the unfortunate is not concupiscence ;
on the contrary, we are happy in bearing such
a testimony in favour of humanity, and of ac-
quiring reputation for pity and tenderness, with-
out its costing us any thing. But then it is no
great matter.

Would any man have thought, that he who
enjoyed the friendship of the kings of England
and Poland, and the queen of Sweden, should,
at length, have wanted a retreat and asylum in

" the world ?

,

Things have different qualities, and the soul
has different inclinations. Nothing that presents
itself to the mind, is absolutely simple, nor does

MORAL REFLECTIONS. 327

the soul look at anything with perfect simplicity.
Hence, we sometimes weep and sometimes laugh,
at the very same thing.

We are so unhappy, that we cannot take
pleasure in any thing, but on condition of being
displeased if it do not succeed, which a thou-
sand accidentsmay occasion ; and do, every hour.
He that has found out the secret of delighting
himself in good, without being disturbed by the
opposite evil, has hit the true point.

There are different classes of men ; the va*
liant, the dressy, the witty, and the pious; each
of which ought to reign in their own circle;
though not in any other. Sometimes they meet
together, and we see the soldier and the beau
foolishly fighting each other, to know which
shall be the master, while the empire of each is
totally different. They do not understand one
another, and both of them are aiming at univer-
sal dominion. But nothing can otftain such a
dominion, not even force ; for this has no power
in the republic of learning ; it has no will but
over external actions.

Ferox gens nullam esse vitam nisi in armis
putat. They like death better than peace;
while others would choose death rather than
war. Any opinion gains preference to life,

Y 4

MORAL REFLECTIONS.

though the love of it appears so strong, and s<3>
natural.

How difficult it is to propose any matter to
the judgment of another, without corrupting
his judgment by the manner of proposing it ?
To say I think it clear, or I think it obscure,
leads his imagination to form that opinion, or
provokes it to form the contrary. It is better
to say nothing about the matter. For then the
other will judge of the thing as it is, that is, as
it is at that time, and as other circumstances,
of which we are not the authors, shall make it
appear ^ except, indeed, this silence should
have a similar effect, either according to the
turn and construction which the person shall be
in the humour to give it ; or, according to what
he may gather from our look, and tone of voice.
So easy is it to turn an opinion from its natural
course ; or, rather, so few opinions are there
which are judicious and solid.

The Platonists, and even Epietetus and his
followers, believe that God alone is worthy to
be loved and admired, and yet they, themselves,
desire to be loved and admired. They were
ignorant of their natural depravity. If, indeed,
they feel really disposed to love and adore Him,
and find in this their principal joy, let them
call themselves good> and welcome ; but if they

MORAL REFLECTIONS. S29

feel an aversion to this ; if they have no incli-
nation but to establish themselves in the good
opinion of men ; and if their whole perfection
consists in being able, without restraint, to make
others happy in loving them ; I say that such
perfection is to be abhorred. What ! they know
God, and are not desirous that men should love
Him ! They want men to trust only in them !
They want to be the sole objects of that hap-
piness, which it is in the power of men to choose,

Montaigne was right in saying, custom ought
to be regarded as soon as it becomes custom,
and we see it established, without stopping to in-
quire whether it be reasonable or not. This,
however, is to be understood only of that which
is not contrary to natural or divine law. It is
very true that people only follow it because they
think it just, or else they would not regard it at
all ; for men will only be kept in subjection to
reason, or justice. Without this, custom would
be thought tyranny; whereas, in fact, the domi-
nion of reason and justice is no more tyrannical
than that of inclination.

But it is highly proper to obey laws and cus-
toms, because they are laws, and the people un-
derstand that so doing constitutes them just. For
this reason they never abandon them ; whereas,
if we make their justice to depend on any other

330 MORAL REFLECTIONS.

thing, it is easy to render it disputable ; and
thus we make them ready to revolt,

How well have men done to distinguish one
another rather by the exterior than by internal
endowments ! Here is another person and I
disputing the way. Which shall give place to
the other ? The weakest of the two. But I am
as stout as he. We must fight about it. But
he has four footmen, and I have but one. That
is evident : we have only to count them. I
therefore must yield, and I am a fool if I contest
it. This keeps us at peace, which is the greatest
of blessings.

The nature of our bodies deadens our afflic-
tions and our quarrels : For we change and be-
come other persons. Neither the aggriever, nor
the party aggrieved, continue the same. It is
like affronting a nation, and seeing them again
two generations afterward. They are still the
French, but not the same.

The soul must undoubtedly be either mortal,
.or immortal. This ought to make an entire dif-
ference in a system of morality. And yet the
philosophers framed their moral systems, alto-
gether independent of it. What astonishing
blindness !

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 331

The last act is always tragical, how pleasant
soever the play may have been throughout,
We throw dust to dust, and the curtain drops for
ever.

XXX.

THOUGHTS ON DEATH: EXTRACTED FROM A
LETTER WRITTEN BY M. PASCAL ON THE
DEATH OF HIS FATHER.

W HEN we are under affliction for the death
of a person who was dear to us, or for any other
misfortune which befals us, we ought not to
seek for consolation in ourselves, or in other
men, or in any part of the creation, but we
ought to seek it in God alone. And the reason
of this is, that no created being is the first cause
of those accidents which we call afflictions. But
the providence of God being the true and only
cause, the sovereign, and the disposer of them,
we ought, undoubtedly, to repair immediately to
their source, and look up to their author to
find solid consolation. If we observe this
rule, if we look on this death which we
are lamenting, not as an effect of chance, or
^s a fatal necessity of nature, or as the sport

332 THOUGHTS ON DEATH.

of those elements and particles of which man is
composed, (for God has not left his elect to the
caprices of chance,) but as the indispensable,
inevitable, just and holy result of a decree of
God's providence now executed in the fulness
of time 'y and that whatever has now happen^
ed, was from everlasting pre-determined and
present with God ; if, I say, by a transport of
grace, we regard this occurrence, not in itself,
and abstracted from God, but out of itself, and
in the will of God, in the justice of his decree,
and in the order of his providence, which is the
real cause that has produced it, without which
it would not have happened, by which alone
it has happened, and in the very manner in which
it has happened; we shall adore in humble silence
the unfathomable depth of His judgments; we
shall reverence the holiness of His decrees ; we
shall bless the guidance of His providence ; and,
uniting our will to the will of God himself, we
shall choose with Him, in Him, and for Him, the
very same events which He has chosen in us, and
for us, from all eternity.

There is no consolation, but in truth alone.
It is evident that Seneca and Socrates have no-
thing which can convince, or console us, on
these occasions. Both were in the error which
has blinded all mankind from the beginning.
They looked on death as natural to man ; and

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 333

all the discourses which they have founded on
this false principle, are so vain and so desti-
tute of solidity, that they only serve by their
tiselessness to demonstrate how weak men are
in general, since the noblest productions of the
wisest among them are so childish and con-
temptible.

It is not so with Jesus Christ ; it is not so
with the canonical books of scripture. There
the truth is revealed : and consolation is as in-
fallibly joined to the truth, as it is infallibly
separated from error. Let us, therefore, view
death, in that truth which the Holy Spirit has
taught us. And we have the admirable ad-
vantage of knowing that death is, in truth and
reality, the punishment of sin, imposed on man,
to expiate his guilt, and necessary to man to
cleanse him from sin: that it is this alone which
can deliver the soul from the concupiscence of
the body, from which saints are never entirely
free, while they live in this world. We know
that life, and the life of Christians, is a con-
tinual sacrifice, which can only be completed
by death. We know that Jesus Christ came
into the world and offered himself as a sacrifice
and a real propitiation ; that his birth, his life,
his death, his resurrection, his ascension, his
sitting for ever at the right hand of the Father,
and his presence in the eucharist, are but one
and the same sacrifice : and we know that what

334 THOUGHTS ON DEATH,

was accomplished in Jesus Christ, must be ac-
complished also in each of his members.

Let us then consider life as a sacrifice ; and
let the accidents of life make no other impres-
sion on the minds of Christians, but in propor-
tion as they interrupt or accomplish this sacri-
fice. Let us count nothing evil but what turns
a sacrifice to God into a sacrifice to the devil j
and let us call every thing a good, which ren-
ders that which was a sacrifice to the devil in
Adam, a sacrifice to God ; and let us examine
the nature of death by this rule.

In order to this, it is necessary to recur to the
person of Jesus Christ : for as God only regards
men through their mediator, Jesus Christ, so
ought they neither to regard others, nor them-
selves, but through his mediation.

If we do not look through this medium, we
shall find nothing in ourselves, but real miseries,
or abominable pleasures : but if we consider all
things in Jesas Christ, we shall find all is conso-
lation, satisfaction, and edification.

Let us then view death in Jesus Christ ; not,
without Jesus Christ. Without Jesus Christ, it
is dreadful, it is detestable, it is the terror of na-
ture. In Jesus Christ, it is altogether different ;
it is amiable, holy, and the joy of the believer.
Every thing, even death itself, is rendered sweet
in Jesus Christ ; and it was for this he suffered ;

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 333

he died to sanctify death and suffering to us.
And as he was God and man, he was all that
was great and all that was abject, that he might
sanctify all things in himself, except sin, arid
might be an example to us in every possible
-condition.

To know what death is, and what death in
Jesus Christ is, we must examine what place it
holds in respect to his continual, and uninter-
rupted sacrifice ; and in order to this we may
observe, that in sacrifices the principal part is
the death of the victim. The oblation and
s an ctifi cation, which precede, are the prepara-
tions for it, but death is the completion ; in
which, by surrendering its life, the creature pays
to God the utmost homage of which it is capar
ble ; thus annihilating itself, before the eyes of
his majesty, and adoring his supreme existence,
who alone essentially exists. There is, indeed,
another thing subsequent to the death of the
victim, without which its death would be use-
less ; namely, God's acceptance of the sacrifice,
which is signified by the scripture expression,
and the Lord swelled a sweet savour. Gen. vii i. 2 1 .
This, indeed, crowns the oblation ; but it is ra-
ther an action of God towards the creature, than
of the creature towards God ; so that the last
act of the creature is its death.

Each of these circumstances were fulfilled in
Jesus Christ, when he came into the world.

336 THOUGHTS ON DEATH.

Through the Eternal Spirit, he offered himself;
Heb. ix. 14. When he comet h into the world,
he saith, Sacrifice and offering thou wouldst not,
but a body hast thou prepared me. Then, said I,
Lo I come, in the volume of the book it is written
of me, to do thy will, O Gods yea, thy law is
within my heart ; Heb. x. 5. Ps. xl. 7, 8.
Here is his oblation ; his sanctifi cation immedi-
ately follows it. His sacrifice continued through
his life, and was completed by his death. It
was needful for him to suffer these things, and to
enter into his glory ; Luke xxiv. 26. Though he
were a son, yet learned he obedience by the things
which he suffered ; and In the days of his flesh,
when he had offered up prayers and supplications,
with strong crying and tears unto him that was
able to save him from death, he was heard in that
he feared; and God raised him from the dead,
and clothed .him with that glory, (which was
formerly prefigured by the fire which fell from
heaven on the sacrifices,) to burn and consume
his body, and to restore it to a life of glory.
This is what Jesus Christ has obtained, and the
purpose which was answered by his resurrection.
Thus this sacrifice being perfected by the death
of Jesus Christ, and consummated by the resur-
rection of his body, in which the image of the
body of sin was swallowed up in glory, Jesus
Christ had performed every thing on his part ;
and nothing remained but that the sacrifice

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 337

should be accepted of God, and that, as in-
cense, it should ascend, and carry up its odour
to the throne of the Divine Majesty. And thus
Jesus Christ was, in this state of immolation, of-
fered, raised up, and received at the throne of
God itself, at his ascension ; in which he rose
partly by his own power, and partly by the
power of the Holy Spirit, which every where
encompassed him. He was carried up, as the
odour of the sacrifices, which was the figure of
Jesus Christ, was carried up by the air which
supported it ; and which represented the Holy
Spirit. And in the Acts of the Apostles, it is
expressly related, that he was received into hea-
ven, to give us an assurance, that this holy sa-
crifice, thus accomplished on the earth, has
been accepted and received into the bosom of
God.

Such is the state of things with regard to our
glorious Lord. Let us now consider them in
ourselves. When we enter into the church,
which is the world of believers, and more espe-
cially of the elect, into which Jesus Christ en-
tered from the moment of his incarnation, by a
privilege peculiar to himself as the only Son of
God, we are offered and sanctified. The sacri-
fice continues through life, and is completed at
death, in which the soul, entirely leaving all
those vices, and that earthly love, the contagion
of which had infected it during life, finishes the

Z

338 THOUGHTS ON DEATH.

immolation of itself, and is received into the
bosom of God.

Let us not therefore grieve for the death of
believers, like Pagans without hope. We have
not lost them when they die. We lost them, as
it were, as soon as they were admitted into the
church by baptism. From that moment they
were God's ; their life was devoted to God ;
their actions had no regard to the world ; but,
for God. By death they are entirely separated
from sin ; and at this moment God receives
them, and their sacrifice has its accomplish-
ment and its crown. They have performed that
which they vowed ; they have finished the work
which God gave them to do; they have fulfilled
that which was the only end of their creation.
The will of God respecting them is accomplish-
ed, and their will is absorbed in the divine. Let
not us, therefore, separate what God has joined;
and let us suppress, or at least moderate, by our
understanding of the truth, the sentiments of
corrupt and mistaken nature, which exhibits no-
thing but false representations, whose illusions
pollute the holiness of those sentiments which
the truth of the gospel ought to inspire.

Let us not then look at death as Pagans, but
as Christians ; that is to say, with hope, as St.
Paul enjoins ; because this is the special privi-
lege of Christians. .Let us not -think a corpse to
be a mere infectious carcase, as the fallacy of

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 339

nature represents it ; but as the eternal and in-
violable temple of the Holy Ghost, which, by
faith, we know it to be.

For we know that the bodies of the saints are
inhabited by the Holy Spirit until the resurrec-
tion, which shall be performed by the power of
the same Spirit, who resides in them for that
purpose. This is the idea of the fathers. And
for this reason we pay honour to the relics of
the dead. And it was on the same principle,
that the eucharist was formerly put into the
mouths of the deceased ; because, knowing them
to be the temples of the Holy Ghost, they
thought them still worthy to be, also, united to
this holy sacrament. But the church has since
altered this custom ; not because she does not
"believe the bodies of good men to be sacred, but
because the eucharist being the bread of life,
and of the living, ought not to be given to the
dead,

Let us hot consider the faithful, who are de-
parted in the grace of God, as having ceased to
live ; although nature suggests it ; but as begin-
ning to live, which is the testimony of truth.
Let us not consider their souls as perished and
annihilated, but as quickened and united to the
sovereign of life. And thus, by a regard to
these truths, let us correct those erroneous sen-
timents which are so rooted in our minds, and

Z 2

THOUGHTS ON DEATH.

those emotions of fear, which are so natural to
man.

God created man with a two-fold love ; love
for his Creator, and love for himself; but with
this restriction, that his love of his Creator
should be infinite, that is, without any other
end than God only ; and that the love of himseLf
should be finite, and always bearing a reference
to God.

Man, in this estate, not only loved himself
without sin, but could not, without sinning, have
ceased to love himself.

Afterward, by the entrance of sin, man lost
the former of these affections, and love of him-
self remaining the only passion in that great
soul, which was capable of an infinite love, this
self-love diffused itself, and flowed into the void
which the love of God had quitted. And thus he
loved himself alone, and all things with respect
to himself, so that his self-love became infinite.

This is the origin of self-love ! It was natural
to Adam : and, during his innocence, it was just;
but it became criminal and immoderate, in con-
sequence of his sin.

This is the source of this love, and the cause
both of its imperfection and its excess.

We may say the same of bur desire for do-
minion, our love of ease, and other things.
3

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 341

And it may also be easily applied to our dread
of death. This was not only natural but just,
in Adam, while innocent ; because his life be-
ing then acceptable to God, ought to have been
agreeable to man ; and death must have been
an object of horror, because it would have been
the termination of a life which was conformable
to the will of God. But when man sinned, his
life became corrupt ; his body and soul became
at enmity against one another, and both of them
against God.

Though this fatal change infected so holy a
life, the love of life continued still ; and the fear
of death remaining the same, that which was
just in Adam, is unjust in us.

Thus arose the fear of death ; and the cause
of its present defectiveness.

Let us then clear up the darkness of nature,
by the light of faith. The fear of death is na-
tural ; and it was so in the state of innocence,
because death could not have entered into para-
dise, without destroying a life which was alto-
gether holy. It was therefore just to hate it,
while it could not take place without separating
a holy soul from a holy body : but it is just to
love it, now it releases a holy soul from an un-
holy body. It was just to flee from it when it
must have broken the peace between soul and
body ; but not now it terminates an irreconcil-

Z 3

342 THOUGHTS ON DEATH.

able dissension between them. In a word, when
it must have punished a guiltless body, by tak>
ing away its liberty of honouring God ,' when
it must have separated the soul from a body
perfectly subject to, and compliant with its vo-
litions ; when it must have put an end to all the
happiness of which man is capable, it was just
to abhor it. But now, when it ends a life stain-
ed with impurity, when it takes away from the
body the liberty of sinning, when it delivers the
soul from' a powerful rebel, which was continu-
ally opposing all the means of its salvation, it
would be highly unjust to entertain the same
sentiments respecting it.

Let us not then abandon that love of life, which
nature instils into us ; because we have received
it from God. But let it be a love for such a life
only, as God gave it us for ; and not for one
contrary to that.

But while we allow of that love which Adam
had for his life of innocence, and which even
our Lord Jesus Christ felt for His, let us resolve
to hate a life which is contrary to that which
Jesus Christ loved ; and to be afraid of such a,
death only, as Jesus Christ himself dreaded, a
death which happens to a body that is accept-*
able to God ; but let us not fear a death,
which, as it punishes a sinful, and cleanses an
impure body, will inspire us with quite opposite

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. 343

sentiments, if we possess any faith, or hope, or
charity.

It is one of the grand principles of Christia-
nity, that wb^to^x.]iappened to Jesus Christ, is
likewise to take place in thiTsouI ^^ ^oTEody^f
every Christian : that as Jesus Christ suffered in
this mortal life, was raised to a new life, and
ascended into heaven, where he sat down at the
right hand of God the Father ; so the body and
soul are to suffer, to die, to be raised again,
and to ascend into heaven.

Ail these particulars are accomplished in the
soul during this life ; but not in the body.

The soul suffers and dies to sin, in repentance
and baptism. The soul is raised to a new life
in the sacraments. And at length the soul quits
this earth, and soars toward heaven, by leading
a heavenly life: which made St. Paul say,
Our conversation is in heaven. Philip, iii. 20.

None of these things take place in the body
during this life, but they will all be accomplish-
ed in it afterward.

For, at our death, the body dies as to this
mortal life : at the judgment it shall rise to a
new life : after the judgment, it shall ascend into
heaven, and remain there to all eternity.

Thus the very same things happen to the body
and to the soul, though at different periods : and
the changes of the body do not take place till
those of the soul are completed ; that is, after

Z4

344 THOUGHTS ON DEATH.

death. Insomuch that death is both the con-
summation of bliss to the soul, and the begin-
ning of bliss to the body.

Such is the admirable conduct of divine wis-
dom in the salvation of souls ! And St. Austin
informs us, on this subject, that God has dis-
posed things in this manner, because if the
death and resurrection of the human body were
to be completed by baptism, men would yield
themselves obedient to the gospel only from the
love of life. Whereas the glory of faith shines
with much greater brightness, by our passing to
immortality, through the shades of death.

It is not right that we should remain without
pain and without feeling, in the afflictions and
misfortunes which befal us ; like angels, who
have not the sentiments of our nature : nor yet
is it right that we should indulge grief without
consolation like heathens, who have no senti-
ment of grace. But we ought both to mourn
and to be comforted like Christians ; the consola-
tions of grace should rise superior to the feelings
of nature : so that grace may not only dwell,
but be victorious in us : that by our thus hal-
lowing the name of our father, his will may be-
come ours, his grace may reign and rule over
nature ; that our afflictions may be like a sacri-
fice, which his grace will complete and consume
to the glory of God : and that these particular

THOUGHTS ON DEATH. S45

sacrifices may be the forerunners of that un'ver-
sai sacrifice, in which all nature shall be con-
summated by the power of Jesus Christ.

Thus shall we derive advantage from our own
imperfections, when they furnish the matter for
this whole-burnt-offering. It is the object of
real Christians to profit by their own imperfec-
tions, for all things work together for good to the
elect. Rom. viii. 28.

And if we look at these things closely, and
consider them as they really are, we shall find
in them great helps to our edification. For as
it is certain, that the death of the body is only
the image of that of the soul, and as we build
on this principle, that we have reason to hope
for the salvation of those whose death we lament,
if we are not able to stop the course of our sad-
ness and grief, we ought to draw this benefit
from it, that since the death of the body is so
terrible as to produce in us such emotions, the
death of the soul would make us far more incon-
solable. God has sent the first to those for whom
we mourn ; but we hope that he has rescued them
from the second. Let us contemplate the great-
ness of our happiness, in the greatness of our
misery ; and let the excess of our grief be the
measure of our joy.

One of the most solid and useful charities we
can perform toward the dead, is to do that which

346 THOUGHTS ON DEATH.

they would desire of us, were they still in the
world ; and to put ourselves, for their sakes, into
that condition which they now wish us to be in.

By this means we shall make them, in some
sort, revive in ourselves, while their counsels
and instructions are still living and acting in
us. And, as the authors of heresies are pu-
nished in another life, for the sinful practices
in which they have engaged their followers, in
whom theip poison is still kept alive, so the dead
are recompensed not only for their own virtues,
but for those to which they have given rise by
their counsels, and their example.

Man is, most certainly, too weak to judge
justly of the course of future events. Let us \^
hope then in God, and not weary ourselves
with rash and indiscreet apprehensions. Let
us commit ourselves to Him for the conduct of
our lives : and let not grief have the dominion
over us.

St. Austin observes, that there is in every
man, a Serpent, an Eve, and an Adam. Our
senses and natural affections are the serpent;
our concupiscence is the Eve ; and the Adam is
our reason.

Nature tempts us continually; concupiscence
is for ever craving; but sin is not complete,
ynless reason assent to it.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 34?

Let us then leave this serpent and this Eve, if
we cannot entirely expel them ; but let us pray
that God by his grace will so fortify our Adam,
that he may become victorious, and that Jesus
Christ may be the conqueror over him, and may
reign in us to all eternity.

XXXI.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS,

A HE more discernment a man possesses, the
more originals he will discover among mankind.
People in common do not see this difference be-
tween men.

A man may have good sense, and yet not be
able to apply it alike to all subjects : for there
are those who judge correctly in a certain order
of things, and yet are quite confounded in others.
Some draw consequences well from a few prin-
ciples; others draw consequences as correctly
from things in which there are many principles.
Some, for instance, thoroughly understand the
effects of water, in which there are but few
principles, but the consequences of them are so

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

fine as not to be reached without great penetra-
tion. Yet these persons would perhaps be no-
extraordinary geometricians : because geometry
includes a great number of principles ; and the
nature of a man's mind may be such, as to pe-
netrate with ease to the bottom of a few princi-
ples, and yet not to dive into things where the
principles are very numerous.

There are therefore two sorts of intellects ; the
one, capable of penetrating quickly and deeply
into the consequences of principles; and this
is the genius for accuracy : the other is able to
comprehend a great number of principles with-
out confounding them ; and this is the genius
for geometry. One is strength and exactness
of mind, the other is extensiveness of mind.
And one of these may exist without the other :
for the mind may be strong, and yet contract-
ed : or it may have a great reach, with but
little strength.

There is a wide difference between a genius
for geometry, and a genius for business. In the
former the principles are palpable, but so far
from ordinary use, that a man finds it difficult
to turn his head that way, for want of practice ;
but if he does attend to them, though it be ever .
so little, he sees them in all their evidence, and
must have a very distorted judgment if he draws
wrong inferences from principles which are too
gross to be mistaken.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS,

But in business, the principles are in common
use, and are obvious to all the world. There is
no need here to turn the head, or to do ourselves
any violence. The only thing wanting is a clear
sight. But then it must be clear, because the
principles are so unconnected and so numerous,
that it is hardly possible but some of them should
escape us. Now the omission of any one prin-
ciple will lead us into error. So that the dis-
cernment must be very exact, to comprehend
all the principles, and the mind must likewise
be just, not to reason falsely from the principles
when they are known.

All geometricians would, therefore, be men
of business, if they were clear-sighted ; for they
do not reason falsely on the principles which
they know. And men of business would be geo-
metricians, if they could once turn their minds
to the unaccustomed principles of geometry.

The reason then, why some very able persons
are not geometricians, is, because they cannot
turn their minds to the principles of geometry :
but the reason that geometricians are not men
of business, is, because they do not see that
which lies before them. For being accustomed
to the clear and obvious principles of geometry,
and to reason only after having clearly discerned
and arranged their principles, they lose them-
selves in matters of business, the principles of
which will not submit to any such arrangement

350 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

They are not to be discerned without difficulty ;
the mind rather feels, than sees them ; and it
requires infinite labour, to make those persons
see them, who do not discover them of them-
selves. They are things so nice and so nume-
rous, that a man must have his understanding
very subtle and clear, in order to apprehend
them ; for they must be perceived, in general,
without the possibility of demonstrating them
methodically, as may be done in geometry;
because there are no such determinate principles,
and it would be endless to undertake to produce
them. We must see the thing at once, and
at a glance, without the progress of reasoning ;
at least, to a certain degree. Thus it rarely
happens thai geometricians are men of business,
or that men of business are geometricians; be-
cause geometricians will treat matters of busi-
ness geometrically, and they make themselves
ridiculous by beginning first with definitions,
and afterward with principles, which is not the
way to proceed in this kind of reasoning. Not
but the mind does the very same thing, but then
it does it silently, naturally, and without art ; in
a way that none of us can explain, and very
few even perceive.

Men of business, on the other hand, having
been thus accustomed to judge of things at once,
are so amazed when we offer them propositions
which they comprehend nothing of, and which

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 351

they cannot enter into, except by means of de-
finitions, and dry principles, that, not having
been accustomed to take things thus in detail,
they soon become disheartened, and disgusted.
But persons of false judgment are never either
men of business, or geometricians.

Those, therefore, who are geometricians, and
nothing more, judge correctly, but only if we
explain every thing to them by definitions and
principles ; for otherwise they are both erroneous
and insupportable ; for they only proceed rightly
upon principles which are thoroughly elucidated.
And those wrho have a genius only for business,
have not patience to descend into the first prin-
ciples of speculative and abstract things, which
they have seen nothing of in the world and in
common life.

It is more supportable to die without thinking
of death, than to think of death, even when thero
is no danger of it.

It often happens, that in order to prove; cer-
tain things, we make use of examples, which
those very things might have been taken to prove.
But nevertheless this is not without its use : for
as we always think the difficulty lies in the
thing to be proved, the examples we adduce are
more clear to us. So when we would illustrate
a general rule, we instance a particular case >

252 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

and if we would explain a particular case,, we
begin with the general rule. We always find
somewhat obscure" in that which we are desirous
to prove, and somewhat clear in that which we
make use of to prove it. For when we pro-
pose a thing in order to prove it, our imagi-
nation is always possessed with the notion that
it is obscure ; and that, on the contrary, that
wh'ch we bring forward in proof of it, is clear,
and thus we more easily understand it.

We fancy that all men conceive and feel alike,
concerning objects which are presented to them :
but we imagine this without any foundation, for
we have no proof of it. I know very well that
men employ the same words on the same occa-
sions ; and that when two men, for instance,
look on the snow, both of them express their
perception of this object by the same term, each
of them saying it is white ; and from this confor-
mity of speech, we strongly conjecture there is
a conformity of idea ; but this is not absolutely
demonstrative, although the chance lies on the
side of the affirmative.

All our reasoning is reducible to submission
to sentiment. Now fancy is like sentiment, and
yet contrary to it : like it, because it does not
reason ; and contrary to it, because it is false.
So that it is very difficult to distinguish between

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 353

these two opposites. One man says, that my sen-
timent is fancy, and that his fancy is senti-
ment ; and I say the same of his. We stand
in need of a rule ; reason presents itself5 but as
this is pliable either way, it leaves us, at last,
without one.

Those who judge of a work by rule, are, with
respect to others, like a man who has a watch,
compared with those who have not one. One
says, we have been here these two hours ; the
other says, it is but three quarters of an hour.
I look at my watch ; I say to one, you are tired ;
and to the other, you pass your time pleasantly,
for we have been here just an hour and an half;
and I laugh at those who reply that my time
passes on heavily, and that I judge of it by my
own humour, for they do not know that I judge
of it by my watch.

There are men in the world who are good
speakers, and yet bad writers. The place, the
company, &c. warms them, and draws more out
of their minds, than would be discovered in them
without the glow this produces.

That which is good in Montaigne, cannot be
easily collected. That which is exceptionable,
I now mean exclusive of his morals, might have
been corrected in a moment, if he had but been,

A A

554 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

aware that he had made up too many stories,
and talked too much of himself.

It is a great evil to follow the exception instead
of the rule. We ought to be strict, and to op-
pose exceptions. But as there will always be some
exceptions to every rule, we ought to judge ri-
gorously, but yet justly.

In one sense it is true to affirm, that all the
world is mistaken. For though the opinions of
people may be sound in themselves, yet they are
not so in their heads ; because they fancy the truth
to be where it is not ; there is indeed truth in their
opinions, but not where they suppose it to be.

Those who have a genius for invention are but
few ; those who have none are more numerous,
and consequently make the stronger party. And
we commonly find, that the latter refuse to the
inventors the glory which they merit, -and seek
after by their inventions. And if they resolutely
maintain their claim, and treat those with con-
tempt who invent nothing, all they get by it is,
to be called by ridiculous names, and to be
treated as visionaries. A man ought, therefore,
to be very cautious of priding himself on this ad-
vantage, considerable as it is, and ought rather
to rest satisfied with the esteem of the few, who
know how to value it.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 355

The understanding naturally believes, and the
will naturally loves ; so that if they be not di-
rected to true objects, they will necessarily fix
upon false ones.

Many things which are true, are contradict-
ed ; and many which are false, pass without
contradiction. Contradiction is therefore no
mark of falshood, nor is the absence of it a mark
of truth.

Caesar was too old, in my opinion, to go about
to amuse himself with conquering the world.
Such an undertaking was fit for Alexander,
who was a young man, and not easy to be re-
strained. But Caesar ought to have been more
considerate.

All the world sees that men labour for what
is uncertain, in voyages, in war, &c. But all
the world does not see that connection of things
which demonstrates, that they ought to do so.
Montaigne saw that men are disgusted with
those who are stupid, and that custom governs
every thing ; but he did not see the reason of
either. Those who see effects and not their
causes, are, in comparison with those who see
the causes, like those who have eyes only, in
comparison with those who are possessed of un-
derstanding likewise. For effects are, as it were,
A A 2

356 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

sensible, but causes are discernible only by the
understanding. And though it is by the under-
standing that the effects are discerned, yet the
understanding which discerns them only, is, to
that which distinguishes the causes, as the bodily
senses are, compared to the mind.

The sense we have of the falseness of present
pleasures, and our ignorance of the vanity of
pleasures which are absent, are the causes of
our inconstancy.

If we were to dream the same thing every
night, — it would perhaps affect as much, as the
objects we see every day. And if an artisan
were sure of dreaming, every night for twelve
hours together, that he was a king ; I think he
would be almost as happy as a king who should
dream, every night for twelve hours together,
that he was an artisan. Should we every night
dream, that we are pursued by our enemies, and
frightened by these troublesome phantoms ; or,
that we passed all our days in a succession of
labour, as going a voyage, or the like ; we should
suffer almost as much, as if the things were real ;
and should be as much afraid of going to sleep,
as wre are now of awaking, when we have to
fear entering on such misfortunes in reality.
And, indeed, the misfortune would be nearly as
great as the reality could be. But because our

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 35?

dreams are ever varying, and diversified.— what
they present us with, affects us much less than
what we see when we are awake, on account of
its continuance, which yet is not so constant and
uniform, but that it changes also, though less
abruptly, except on some few occasions, as when
we travel ; and on these we are accustomed to
say, " Surely I am in a dream :" for life is a
dream, a little less inconstant.

Kings and princes play sometimes. They are
not always on their thrones : they grow weary
of them. Greatness must be sometimes laid
aside, in order to be enjoyed,

My humour depends but little on the weather.
My fogs and fine days are within myself. The
good or ill success of my affairs even does not
much move me. I sometimes set myself against
ill fortune, and the glory of overcoming it makes
nie master it with pleasure ; whereas at other
times I act with indifference, and even disgust,
at prosperity.

It is a pleasant thing to consider that there
are men in the world, who having renounced all
the laws of God and of nature, yet make laws
for themselves, which they exactly obey : as
fbr instance, thieves, &c.

A A3

358 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

Those great efforts of mind which the soul
sometimes readies, are things, which it cannot
keep up to ; it leaps, as it were, to them, and
comes down again as suddenly.

Man is neither angel nor beast ; and the mis-
chief is, that he who would be thought an angel,
acts the beast.

Provided we know the ruling passion in any
man, we make ourselves sure of being able to
please him. And yet all men have fancies,
which are contrary to their own good, even in
the idea which they themselves form of good :
and this inconsistency disconcerts those who wish
to gain their affection.

A horse does not strive to be admired by his
companion. We do, indeed, see some sort of
emulation between them in a race, but this is
of no further consequence \ for when they are
in the stable, the most clumsy and ill-propor-
tioned will not, on that account, give up his oats
to the other. It is not so among men. Their
virtue will not satisfy them of itself; they are
not content with it, if it does not give them some
advantage over others.

As we corrupt our understanding we deprave
our sentiment. Both the understanding and the
3

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 359

sentiment are formed by conversation : so that
good or bad company may make or spoil them,
It is therefore of the greatest importance to choose
well in this respect, that we may rectify them,
and not corrupt them : but we cannot make this
choice, unless they are already corrected, and
not corrupted. So that here is a circle, and
happy are they who get out of it.

We naturally suppose ourselyes much more
capable of diving to the centre of things, than '
of embracing their circumference. The visible
extent of the world plainly surpasses us. But
yet as we surpass little things, we think our-
selves capable of comprehending them. And
yet it requires as much capacity to descend to
non-entity, as to extend to the whole. It must
be infinite to do either. And it appears to me,
that a man who could penetrate into the first
elements of things, might also arrive at the
knowledge of infinity. Each depends on the
other; each conducts to the other. These ex-
tremes touch, and the further they are asunder,
the more they unite, for they meet in God, and
in God alone.

If a man did but begin with the study of him-
self, he would soon find how incapable he is of
proceeding further. For how is it possible, that
a part should comprehend the whole ? But per-

A A 4

360 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

haps be will, at 1'east, aspire to the knowledge of
those parts to which he bears some proportion.
But, then, the parts of the world are so closely re-
lated and connected to one another, that I be-
lieve it impossible, thoroughly, to understand
one without another, or even, without under-
standing the whole.

Man, for example, has some relation to every
thing which he has a knowledge of. He has
need of place, to contain him ; of time, to make
out his duration ; of elements, to compose his
frame ; of motion, to preserve his life ; of heat
and food, for nourishment ; of air, for respira-
tion. He sees the light ; he feels surrounding
bodies ; in short, he holds an alliance with the
whole world.

In order, therefore, to a knowledge of man,
we must know whence it comes to pass, that
he should need air for his subsistence : and to
understand the air> we must know by what
means it has such an influence on the life of
man.

Flame cannot subsist without air : therefore
to understand the one we must understand the
other.

All things then being causes or effects, de-
pendents or assistants, mediately or imme-
diately, and all being connected with each
other by a natural, but imperceptible tie, which
unites the most distant and the most diverse ;

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 361

I hold it impossible, either to know the parts
without knowing the whole, or to know the
whole, without an accurate acquaintance with
the parts.

And what seems to complete our inability for
the knowledge of things, is, that they are in
their own nature simple -, whereas, we are com-
posed of two opposite natures, spirit and body.
For it is impossible that that part of us which
reasons, should be any other than spiritual.
And if it be pretended we consist of nothing
but body, that would exclude us much more
from the knowledge of things ; for there is no-
thing so inconceivable as that matter should be
capable of knowing itself.

It is this composition, of body and spirit,
which made almost all the philosophers con-
found the idea of things ; ascribing to body
the properties which belong only to spirit, and
to spirit the properties which are peculiar to
body. Thus they positively affirm, that bodies
have a tendency downwards ; that they aspire
to their centre ; that they flee from their own de-
struction ; that they abhor a vacuum ; that they
have their inclinations, sympathies, and antipa-
thies : which are all things belonging purely to
spirit. And when they talk of spirit, they con-
sider it as being in some place, and ascribe to it
the power of locomotion, which are things pe*
culiar to body.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS,

Instead of receiving into our minds the ge-
nuine ideas of things, we colour the simple ob-
jects which we contemplate, with the qualities
of our own compounded being.

Who would not imagine, when we affect to
compose every thing of spirit and body, that
we really comprehended their union ? And yet
this, of all things, is what we comprehend the
least. Man is to himself the most prodigious
object in nature : for he cannot conceive what
body is, and still less does he know what spirit
is, and least of all, how a body can be united
to a spirit, This is the very summit of all his
difficulties : and, yet, this is his own being.
Modus quo corporibus adhtcret $pmtusy com-
prehendi ab hominibus non potest : <Sf hoc tamcn
lioino est.

When among natural things, the knowledge
of which is not necessary to us, there are any
which we do not know the truth of, it may
perhaps not be amiss, that there should be some
general error, to fix the minds of men. As,
for instance, concerning the moon, to which
we ascribe the change of seasons, the progress
of diseases, &c. For it is one of the principal
disorders of mankind, to have a restless curio-
sity about things, which it is impossible they
should understand. And I question whether it
is not a less evil, to lie under a mistake about

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 363

things of this kind, than to labour under this
useless curiosity.

If the thunder should fall on low places,
poets, and those who do not know how to
reason on things of this nature, would be at a
loss for want of proofs.

This dog is mine, says the poor child : that is ^
my place in the sun^ This is the beginning, and
the picture of that tyranny which would usurp
the whole earth.

The understanding has a method of its own :
which is, by principles and demonstrations. The
heart has a method altogether different. We
do not prove ourselves deserving of love, by a
methodical detail of the causes of love ; indeed
this would be ridiculous.

Jesus Christ and St. Paul have much oftener
used this method of the heart, which is that of
charity, than that of the understanding : be-
cause their principal design was, not so much to
inform, as to inflame. St. Austin does the
same. And this method, chiefly, consists in so
digressing on those points, which have a rela-
tion to the main design, as to keep it continually
in view.

People in common think of Plato or Aris-

364 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

totle as men in fine robes, and as personages
always serious and grave. Whereas, they were
really good kind of men, who could laugh with
a friend, just as we do. And when they com-
posed their laws, and their treatises of polity,
it was to amuse and divert themselves. It was
the least serious and least philosophical part of
their lives. The most philosophical, was to live
in plainness and tranquillity.

There are some persons who put a mask upon
every thing in nature. There is no king with
them, but an august monarch ; no such place
as Paris, but the capital of the kingdom. There
are places in which Paris shouldbe called Paris,
and others, in which it should be called the ca-
pital of the kingdom.
£pi" .-' • ' *•*

[
When, in perusing a discourse, we meet with

some words repeated, and yet, on endeavouring
to change them, find they are so appropriate
that this would spoil the composition, we ought
to let them remain. For, then, to alter them
would be a mark of envy, which is blind, and
cannot see that the repetition is no blemish on
such an occasion ; for there is no such thing as
a general rule on these subjects.

Those who force words, to form anthitheses,
are like those who make false windows for the

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 365

sake of symmetry. Their rule is, not to speak

correctly, but to make their figures cor-

:

rect.

One language is with relation to another,
like a cypher, in which words are changed into
words, and not letters into letters. And upon'
this principle an unknown language may be de-
cyphered.

There is a model of agreeableness and beauty,

which consists in a certain relation between our

• 11 i

own nature, such as it is, whether weak or

strong, and the thing with which we are de-
lighted. Whatever is formed upon this model
pleases us : a house, a song, a speech, verse,
prose, women, birds, rivers, trees, chambers,
dresses. Whatever differs from this model, is

always displeasing to persons of true taste.

.

As we talk of poetical beauty, so we ought
to talk of geometrical beauty, and medicinal
beauty ; and yet v/e never use these phrases.
The reason of which is, that we are well ac-
quainted with the objects of geometry and me-
dicine ; but we do not understand wherein that
agreeableness consists which is the object of
poetry. We are unacquainted with the natural
model, which we ought to imitate: and for

S66 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

want of this knowledge, writers have invented
a set of fanciful terms, such as the golden age,
the wonder of our times, the fatal laurel, the
lovely star, &c. and we call this jargon poetical
beauty. But if we were to imagine a woman
dressed after this pattern, we should have a
pretty lady so covered over with looking-glasses
and tinsel chains, that, instead of finding her
agreeable, we should be unable to keep from
laughing at her. For we know better what it is
that makes a woman agreeable, than what
makes a poem so. But they who do not know
this, might, perhaps, admire a lady in such an
equipage, and many a village would take her
for the queen. Whence some persons have styled
sonnets composed after this manner, the village
queens.

When in a natural discourse some particular
passion, or effect, is described, we feel in our-
selves the truth of what we hear, which was
really in us before, though without our know-
ledge, and we find ourselves disposed to love the
person who has caused us to feel it, for he seems
not to have shown us his goods, but our own ;
and this kindness makes us think him deserving
our esteem : besides that such a coincidence of
thought naturally produces love in the heart to-
wards him.

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 367

Eloquence must contain that which is agree-
able, and that which is real ; and the agreeable
part must also be real.

When we meet with a composition written in
a natural style, we are surprised and enchanted
with it, because we expected to see an author,
and we find a man. But those who possess true
taste are no less surprised, when on opening a
book they expect to meet with a man, and find
an author. Plus poetic^ quam humanl locutus esL
Those do real honour to nature, who show that
she is able to speak on every subject, not even
excepting theology.

The last thing we are able to decide upon in
composing a work, is the arrangement of its
parts.

In composition we ought never to turn off the
attention from one thing to another, unless it be
for the sake of relieving it ; and then it must be
at a time when this is requisite, and at no other.
For he that endeavours to divert his reader with-
out occasion, wearies him. He grows disgust-
ed, and disregards the subject altogether; so
hard is it to obtain any thing from men but
through pleasure, which is a coin, in exchange
for which we give all that people ask.

368 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

Men love malignity, yet not toward the un-
fortunate, but toward those who are at the
same time both proud and prosperous : and we
shall be deceived, if we judge otherwise of the
matter.

Martial's epigram upon one-eyed men, is
good for nothing, because it gives them no
consolation, and only serves to give an edge to
the vain glory of the author. But what is of
no use, except to the author, can never be of
any value. Ambitiosa recidet ornamenta. We
should study to please those who possess ten-
derness and compassion, and not those who are
barbarous and inhuman.

PRAYER,

IMPLORING OF GOD THE BIGHT VSS OF

SICKNESS.

I- CJ LORD, whose spirit is so good and
gracious in all things, and who art so merciful,
that not only the prosperities, but even the dis-
tresses which happen to thine elect, are the ef-
fects of thy mercy, grant me grace not to act
like an heathen in the state to which thy justice
has brought me ; but that, like a true Christian.
I may acknowledge thee for my Father and my
God, in whatsoever circumstances I am placed.
For the altering of my condition, can no way
influence thine. Thou art ever the same, though
I am subject to change : thou art no less God,
when thou art afflicting and punishing, thaii
when thou art consoling, and showing com-
passion.

B B

370 GRAYER, IMPLORING OF GOB

II. THOU gavest me health to be spent in
serving thee ; and I perverted it to a use alto-
gether profane. Now thou hast sent a sickness
for my correction : O suffer me not to use this
likewise to provoke thee, by my impatience,
I abused my health ; and thou hast justly pu-
nished me for it : O keep me from abusing thy
punishment. And since the corruption of my
nature is such, that it renders thy favors perni-
cious to me ; grant, O my God, that thy all-
powerful grace may render thy chastisements
beneficial. If my heart has been filled with
the love of the world, while I was in possession
of strength, destroy my vigour to promote my
salvation; and either by weakness of body, or
the zeal of charity, render me incapable of en-
joying the world, that my delight may be only
in thee.

III. O GOD, to whom I must render an
exact account of all rny actions at the end of
rny life, and at the end of the world : O God,
who only sufferest the world, and all things in
the world to subsist, for the trial of thine elect,
and for the punishment of the wicked : O God,
who leaves! hardened sinners in the delicious,
but criminal enjoyment of this world : O God,
who. causest our bodies to die, and at the hour
of death, removes! the soul from all that it loved
in 'the world : O God, who, at that last moment
«*f my life, wilt separate me from all things to

THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 371

which I am attached, and on which my heart
has been set : O God, who wilt, at the last day,
consume the heavens and the earth, and all the
creatures they contain, to show to all mankind,
that nothing subsists but thyself, and that no-
thing is worthy of love but thee, since nothing
is durable but thee : O God, who wilt destroy
all these vain idols, and all these fatal objects of
our affections ; I praise thee, O God, and I
will bless thee all the days of my life, that thou
hast been pleased, in thy mercy toward me, to
anticipate that awful day, by already destroying
all things with regard to me, by this state of
weakness to which thou hast reduced me. I
praise thee, O my God, and I will bless thee all
the days of my life, that thou hast be.en pleased
to make me incapable of enjoying the delights
of health, and the pleasures of the world ; and
that thou hast, for my good, in a manner de-
stroyed those deceitful idols, which thou wilt
effectually annihilate, to the confusion of the
wicked, in the day of thy wrath. Grant, O
Lord, that I may, in future, judge myself by this
destruction, which thou hast wrought in my be-
half j that thou mayest not, hereafter, condemn
me to that utter destruction which thou wilt
make of my present life, and of the world. For,
O Lord, as, at the instant of my. death, I shall
find myself separated from the world, stripped
of all things, and standing alone in thy presence;

372 PRAYER, IMPLORIN& OF GOD

to answer to thy justice for all the movements of
my heart : grant that I may consider myself, in
this disease, as in a kind of death, separated from
the world, stripped of all the objects of my af-
fections, placed alone in thy presence, to im-
plore of thy mercy the conversion of my heart ;
and that thus I may enjoy great consolation in
knowing, that thou art now sending me a sort of
death, for the display of thy mercy, before
thou sendest me death in reality, for the display
of thy justice. Grant then, Q my God, that
as thou hast anticipated my death, so I may
anticipate the justice of thy sentence; and that
I may so examine myself, before thy judgment,
that 1 may find mercy, hereafter, in thy sight.

IV. GRANT, O Lord, that I may in silence
adore the order of thine adorable providence, in
the disposal of my life ; that thy rod may com-
fort me ; and that, — having lived in the bitterness
of my sins, while I was in peace, — I may taste
the heavenly sweetness of thy grace, during the
salutary afflictions with which thou hast visited
me. But I confess, O my God, that my heart
is so hardened, so full of worldly ideas, cares, in-
quietudes, and attachments, that neither health,
nor sickness, nor discourses, nor books, nor thy
holy scriptures, nor thy gospel, nor thy most
holy mysteries, nor alms, nor fastings, nor mor-
tifications, nor miracles, nor the use of the sa-
craments, nor the sacrifice of thy body, nor all

THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 373

my endeavours, nor those of the whole world to-
gether, can do any tiling at all even to begin my
conversion, except thou accompany them all
with the extraordinary assistance of thy grace.
I look up, therefore, O my God, unto thee,
who art God Almighty, to implore a gift, which
all creatures together could never bestow. I
should not dare to direct my cries unto thee,
were there any other that could hear them.
But, O my God, as the conversion of my heart,
which I ask of thee, is a work exceeding all the
powers of nature, I can only apply to the al-
mighty Author and Master of nature. To w-liom,

0 Lord, shall I cry ; to whom shall I have re-
course, but unto thee ? Every thing that is not
God is unable to fulfil my desires. It is God
himself that I ask and that I seek : it is to thee
alone, O my God, whom I seek ; that I may ob-
tain thyself. O Lord, open my heart : enter
into this rebellious place, that my sins have pos-
sessed. They hold it in subjection : do thou
enter, as into the strong man's house ; but first
bind the strong and powerful enemy, who is the
tyrant over it; and take to thyself the treasures
which are there. Lord, take my affections
which the world has robbed me of : spoil thou
the world of this treasure ; or rather resume it
to thyself, for to thee it belongs ; it is a tribute

1 owe thee, for thine own image is stamped upon
it. Thou didst form it there, O Lord, at the

B B 3

374 PRAYER, IMPLORING OF GOD

moment of my baptism, which was my second
birth ', but now it is wholly defaced ; the image
of the world is so strongly engraven on it, that
thine own is no longer discernible. Thou alone
wast able to create my soul ; thou alone art able
to create it a-new. Thou alone couldst form in
it thine image ; thou alone canst reproduce it,
and reimpress that defaced image ; that is to
say, Jesus Christ, my Saviour ; the express image
and character of thine essence.

V, O MY GOD, how happy is the heart
which can love so charming an object, where
the affection is so honourable, the attachment so
beneficial 1 I feel that I cannot love the world,
without displeasing thee, without hurting, and
dishonouring myself ; and yet the world is still
the object of my delight. O my God, how
happy are the souls, whose delight thou art ;
for they may give themselves wholly up to the
love of thee, not only without scruple, but even
with commendation ! How firm and lasting is
their happiness ! Their expectation can never
be defeated; because thou failest not, and nei-
ther life nor death can ever separate them from
the object of their desires. The very moment
which shall involve the wicked, and their idols,
in one common ruin, shall unite the just to thee
in one common glory ; and as the one shall pe-
rish with the perishable objects, to which they
had given their affections ; the latter shall sub-

THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 375

sist for ever, in that eternal and self-existing ob-
ject to whom they were so intimately joined. O
how happy are those, who with the perfect li-
berty, and yet with the invincible inclination of
their will, love perfectly and freely, what they
are necessarily under obligation to love.

VI. PERFECT, O my God, the good desires
thou hast given me. Be thou their end, as thou
art their beginning. Crown thy own gifts ; for
thy gifts I acknowledge them to be. I acknow-
ledge them, O my God, and so far from prev
suming that my prayers have that merit that
should oblige thee to grant them, I most humbly
confess, that having given up to the creature?
this heart which thou only formedst for thyself;
and not either for the world, or myself; I can
expect no favour but from thy mercy ; since I
have nothing in me that can oblige thee to it;
and all the natural movements of my heart, be-
ing directed either toward creatures, or toward
myself, can only be provoking to thee. I thank
thee, therefore, O my God, for the good desires
thou hast inspired; and also that thou enablest
me to thank thee for them.

. VII. TOUCH my heart with repentance for
my faults ; because without this inward pain,
the outward evils with which thou hast afflicted
my body, will be a new occasion of sin. Make
me rightly to understand that the pains of the
body are only the punishment, and the figure

B B 4

376 PRAYER, IMPLORING OF GOB

together, of those of the soul : but, O Lord,
make them prove likewise the, remedy ; by mak-
ing me consider, from the pains which I feel,
those which I was not sensible of in my soul,
though it was diseased, and covered with sores.
For, O Lord, the greatest of its maladies is this
insensibility, and exceeding weakness, which
has taken from it all sense of its own miseries.
Make me to feel them deeply, and grant that
the rest of my life may be one continued peni-
tence, to wash away the sins I have commit-
ted.

VIII. O LORD, although my past life has
been free from grievous crimes, the occasions
of which thou hast kept from me ; it has still
been exceedingly hateful to thee, from my con-
stant negligence, my misuse of thy most holy
sacraments, my contempt of thy word and in-
spirations, the idleness and total unprofitable-
ness of my actions and "thoughts; and the en-
tire waste of all that time, which thou hadst
given me, to worship thee, that I might in all
my business seek the means of doing thy plea-
sure, and of becoming truly penitent for my
daily trespasses,— which are common to the best
of men, and therefore require that their whole
life should be one continued repentance, with-
out which they are in danger of falling from
their righteousness.

IX. THUS, O my God, have I always been

THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 377

rebellious against thee. Yea, Lord, hitherto
I have been always deaf to thy inspirations ; I
have despised thy oracles; I have judged con-
trary to what thou judgest : T have contradict-
ed those holy maxims, which thou hast brought
into the world from the bosom of thine Eternal
Father, and according to which thou wilt judge
the world. Thou hast said, Blessed are they that
mourn, and woe unto those who live in consolation.
And I have said, c Unhappy are they that mourn,
6 and most happy are they who live in consola-
( tion. : — Happy are those who enjoy a plentiful
* fortune, a splendid reputation, and uninter-
f rupted health/ And for what reason did I ac-
count them happy, but because all these advan-
tages afforded them a greater opportunity of en-
joying the creatures ; that is, of offending thee.
Yea, Lord, I confess that I esteemed health a
good, not because it is a mean of serving thee
by usefulness, of employing more days and
nights in thy service, and of doing good to my
neighbours ; but because, with it, I could aban-
don myself, with less restraint, to more of the
enjoyments of this life, and better relish its fatal
pleasures. Grant me grace, O Lord, to rectify
my reason, and conform my sentiments to thine ;
that I may account myself happy in affliction,
and that while I am incapable of external ac-
tions, thou mayst so purify my thoughts, that
they may no longer contradict thy own ; that

378 PRAYER, IMPLORING OF GOD

thus I may find thee within myself, while my
weakness incapacitates me to seek thee without.
For, O Lord, thy kingdom is in the hearts of
the faithful ; and I shall, find it in myself, if I
there discover thy Spirit, and thy wisdom.

X. BUT, O Lord, what shall I do to engage
thee to pour down thy Spirit on this miserable
clay ? All that I am, is odious in thy sight ; nor
can I find any thing in myself that can be ac-
ceptable to thee. I see nothing, O Lord, but
my sufferings, alone, which have some resem-
blance to thine. Look therefore on the evils
I now labour under, and on those with which I
am threatened. Behold with an eye of mercy,
the wounds which thy hand has made. O my
Saviour, who lovedst thy sufferings, even in
death : O God, who for no other cause be-
camest incarnate after the fall of man,, and
didst take on thee a body, — but that r thou
mightest suffer all the punishment that our
sins have deserved : O God, who so lovest
bodies exercised with sufferings, that thou didst
choose for thyself a body the most loaded with
sufferings that ever came into the world; ac-
cept my body, — not for its own sake, nor for all
that it contains, for all deserves thy wrath, — but
on account of the sufferings it endures, which
alone can be worthy of thy love. May my
sufferings invite thee to visit me. But to com-
plete the preparation for thy stay, grant, O

THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 379

my Saviour, that, — if my body has this in com-
mon with thine, that it suffers for my offences,—
my soul may have this likewise in common
with thy soul, to be sorrowful for those of-
fences ; and that thus I may suffer with thee
and like thee, both in my body, and in my
soul, for the transgressions I have committed.

XI. GRANT me, O Lord, grace to join thy
consolations to my sufferings, that I may suffer
like a Christian. I pray not to be exempted
from pain ; for this is the recompense of saints :
but I pray that I may not be abandoned to the
pains of nature without the comforts of thy
Spirit ; for this is the curse of Jews and Pagans.
I pray not to enjoy fulness of comfort, without
suffering ; for that is the life of glory : neither
do I pray for fulness of suffering, without com-
fort; for that is a Jewish state : but I pray, O
Lord, that I may feel at once, both the pains of
nature for my sins, and the consolations of thy
Spirit by thy grace ; for that is the true state
of Christianity. O, may I never feel pain with-
out comfort ! But may I feel pain and consola-
tion together, that I may hereafter attain to
feel thy comforts only, without any mixture of
pain ! For so, O Lord, thou didst leave the
world to languish in natural sufferings without
consolation, till the coming of thine only Son :
but now thou consolest and sweetenest the sufr

3SO PRAYER, IMPLORING O£ GOD

ferings of thy faithful servants by the grace of
thine only Son, and fillest thy saints with pure
felicity in the glory of thine only Son. These
are the wonderful steps by which thou hast
carried on thy works. Thou hast raised me
from the first ; O, conduct me to the second ;
that I may attain the third ! O Lord, this
mercy I earnestly implore.

XII. SUFFER me not, O Lord, to be under
such an estrangement from thee, as to be able
to reflect on thy soul being sorrowful, even unto
death, and thy body being overcome by death
for my sins, without rejoicing to suffer both in
my body, and in my soul. For what is more
shameful, and yet more usual with Christians,
and with myself, than that while thou didst
sweat blood, for the expiation of our offences,
we should live in pleasurable gratifications ?
— and that Christians, who profess to be devoted
to thee ; that those who by baptism have re-
nounced the world to become thy followers ;
that those who have solemnly pledged them-
selves in the face of the church to live and die
with thee ; that those who profess to believe
that the world persecuted and crucified thee;
that those who believe thou didst expose thy-
-self to the wrath of God, and to the cruelty of
men, to redeem them from their sins ; that those,
I say, who believe all these truths, who consider

THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 381

thy body as the sacrifice which was offered for
their salvation ; who look on the pleasures and
sins of the world as the only cause of thy suf-
ferings, and the world itself as thy murderer ;
should yet seek to gratify their bodies by those
same pleasures in that same world ; and that
those who could not, without shuddering, behold
a man cherishing and caressing the murderer of
his father, who had laid down his life for that
son, — should live as I have done, with full delight
in the world, which I know to be in fact the
murderer of him, whom I own for my Father
and my God, who was delivered for my per-
sonal salvation, and who in his own person
bore the punishment of my sins ? It was most
just, O Lord, that thou shouldst interrupt so
criminal a joy as this, with which I solaced
myself in the shadow of death.

XIII. TAKE, therefore, from me, O Lord,
that sorrow— which the love of my self may pro-
duce in me, from my sufferings, and from the
want of the success I wished to my designs in
this world— which had no regard to thy glory.
But create in me a sorrow conformable to thy
own. Let my pains in some measure appease
thy wrath : let them prove the happy occasion
of my conversion and salvation. Let me not,
hereafter, wish for health or life, but to spend it
and end it for thee, with .thee, and in thee. I

382 PRAYER, IMPLORING OF GOD

pray not for health or sickness, life or death 5
but that thou wouldst dispose of my health,
my sickness, my life, and my death, for thy
glory, for my own salvation, for usefulness to
thy church, and thy saints, among whom I
hope by thy grace to be numbered. Thou
alone knowest what is expedient for me ; thou
art the sovereign master > do whatsoever thou
pleasest. Give me, or take away from me,
conform my will to thine ; and grant that,— with
an humble and perfect submission, and in a
holy confidence, — I may dispose myself to receive
the orders of thine everlasting providence, and
may equally adore whatsoever proceeds from
thee.

XIV. ENABLE me with constant uniformity
of mind to receive all sorts of events, foras-
much as we know not what we ought to asky
and I cannot wish for one event rather than
another without presumption ; and without
making myself a judge of, and responsible for/
those consequences which thy wisdom has been
pleased to conceal from me. O Lord, I know,
that I know this one thing only, — that it is good
to follow thee, and that it is wicked to offend
thee. Beyond this, I know not what is best,
or worst, upon the whole. I know not which
is good for me, whether health or sickness,
riches or poverty ; or any thing else in this.

THE RIGHT USE OF SICKNESS. 333

world. For this knowledge surpasses the wis-
dom both of men and of angels ; and lies hidden
in the secrets of thy providence, which I adore,
and will not dare to pry into.

XV. GRANT, O Lord, that being what I
am, I may conform myself to thy will ; and
that being sick as I now am, I may glorify thee
in my sufferings. Without these, I could not
attain to thy glory ; which thou thyself, O my
Saviour, didst not please to attain but by suffer-
ings. It was by the marks of thy sufferings, that
thou wast made known again to thy disciples :
and it is by the sufferings they endure, that thou
also knowest who are thy disciples. Own me
then as thy disciple, in the afflictions which I
endure, in my body and in my mind, for the sins
I have committed. And as nothing is accept-
able to God, unless presented by thee ; unite my
will to thine; and, my sufferings to those which
thou hast endured. Unite me to thyself, fill
me with thyself, and with thy Holy Spirit.
Enter into my heart, and into my soul ; there to
sustain my afflictions, — and to continue to endure,
in n\Qj what remains of thy passion; which thou
Uilfillest in thy members, till the perfect con-
summation of thy mystical body. So that, be-
ing filled by thee, it may be no longer I v, ho
Jive or suffer, but thou, O my Saviour, who
Jivest and sufferest in me : -that having thus

584 PRAYER IN SICKNESS.

been a ^rnall partaker of thy sufferings, thou
mayest fill me completely with that glory, which
thou hast acquired by them : .ja.nd in which thou
livest, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, for
ever and ever. Amen.

THE END,

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